It's Not Like I Wanted This to Happen
by icewaterdrive
Summary: Quinn takes a very drunk Rachel home from a party...encounters the Berrys…and herself. This story contains a huge amount of Brittana and a lot of Puck.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: It's Not Like I Wanted This to Happen**

**Rated: T**

**Pairing: Quinn/Rachel, with a huge amount of Brittana and lot of Puck. **

**Spoilers: I take liberties with timelines and relationships that deviate from canon so this is AU.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

**Summary: Quinn takes a very drunk Rachel home from a party...encounters the Berrys…and herself. **

* * *

Typical Puck party, Quinn thought as she entered the house. And she was late—really late actually because she hadn't wanted to come and had only forced herself to make an appearance after Puck, Santana, Brittany, Mercedes and Kurt had texted her. Multiple times.

It was cold as fuck outside yet crazily humid and warm inside as soon as she opened the door. Yeah. Typical. Blasting music, people dancing and everyone else screaming dumbass whatevers at each other. Plus the smell of sweat, alcohol and whatever lame perfumes and body sprays opposite sexes used to attract or impress each other.

"YO YO! BABY MAMA!"

Quinn glared at him until he got into actual audio range, "Puckerman. I've told you too many times and this is the last." Her voice was icy, "Never call me that again. I'm not your _anything_."

In a flash that felt like a punch to the gut, Puck remembered his encounter with the obstetrician, Dr. Jameson, who'd delivered Beth. He'd seemed sort of young for a doctor, super intense and was a really big burly guy, bigger than Karofsky even, with bright blue eyes. But Puck had been really impressed that such a giant could be so gentle with Quinn over the last hours of her hard delivery.

_After delivering the baby and giving him the all-clear, the doctor had later cornered him in the waiting room and whispered, "I know all about you, you got me? I've been following Quinn's pregnancy for six months, which you wouldn't know since you haven't cared enough to come."_

"_Dude! She didn't want me there! What else could I do?"_

_The doctor stared at him in disbelief. "Oh, I don't know. Insist? Put your life on hold and insist that you cared about the girl carrying your child more than you cared about getting laid and playing COD."_

"_The hell? She told you that?"_

_The doctor smiled. "No, actually. She didn't. You just did. She only told me it was her fault she was pregnant. She said she got stupid on wine coolers on a fat day and got knocked up by the school man-whore. The rest I can see for myself. I know guys like you, _dude_. You know what? The most important part of being a father to a child in the womb is taking care of the mother—and that includes emotionally_._ Mama's happy and secure? So's baby. Or maybe you never learned that, huh, because you sure didn't do it for her, did you?"_

_Puck felt tears welling in his eyes and a weight like someone had driven his truck onto his chest. No. His dad had never taken care of his mom. Or him or his sister. _

"_Upshot, _dude_? Your child is healthy, little thanks to you. Tomorrow your child's mother, a 16 year old child, will be returning to her latest home away from home since she's basically homeless. But even though she doesn't have a home and you're giving up the baby, she does get the consolation prize of 27 stitches in her vagina. How about that? She won't be able to move or sit without pain for the next six to eight weeks. You spent maybe 15 seconds giving life to this baby—she's given nine months of her life, lost her family and home, gone through an eight hour drug-free labor that tore her vagina, has 27 stitches to show for it and has a baby daddy who's as much a child as his daughter. Think about that every time you speak to her. Ask yourself whether your 15-second orgasm was worth all her pain and suffering." _

_Puck didn't even wipe the tears he felt on his face. "I didn't—I don't…I…my father left us when I was little."_

_The doctor stared at him for a few seconds, nodded and put a large hand on his shoulder. "One day, Puck…in life you get two chances at the parent-child relationship. Maybe you didn't get to be a son—but you can be a father." He clapped him on the shoulder and smiled, "Until then, grow up and buy some condoms, _dude_. And show some respect to Quinn. You're a baby daddy but she is_ not_ a baby mama—she's carried and created your first child under tremendous stress. She's a _mother_. One day you'll be a father. But not yet."_

_The doctor surprised him by pulling him into a quick man-hug. "Now go see your little girl." _

He lowered his eyes, "Sorry, Quinn."

"Better."

They smiled at each other and she gently bumped his shoulder. He pinched the space between his eyes because he wasn't going to be a wuss even though just looking at her sometimes made him feel like crying. It was still so weird between them and why not? That doctor had made it so clear. He'd hurt her and failed her and yet here she was, just as beautiful as before but different somehow. She wasn't the same girl and he knew she never would be. Which was on him. He pulled himself out of his thoughts, took a sip of his beer and bumped her shoulder back as they looked out at the party—all the usual players plus a hell of a lot more. It was a huge party and he was damned proud.

"Epic, huh?"

"I don't even know what to say. It's like a teenage Babylon."

"I know," Puck grinned, "Thank you."

Quinn's looked at the dance floor and did a double take, "Okay. The fuck, Puckerman?"

Puck looked to the spot in the room where Quinn was pointing and his eyes popped.

Rachel was between two boys who were strangers to Quinn and all of them were grinding on each other. Clumsily. Very drunkenly.

He glanced at Quinn who asked, "Who _are _those douchebags?"

"I think they're two of those Dalton guys Kurt invited."

"Oh you think? What'd he invite them to do? Slip our dwarf a roofie? Who's she here with?"

"Kurt and Mercedes picked her up. Said it was their charity contribution for Christmas."

"So they drop her—_her_—in the middle of this sort of party and leave her?"

"Hey! I'm not morality cop, Quinn. It's not my—"

"Wait!" Quinn turned and stepped squarely into his space, "Let me guess. Not your responsibility? Why does that sound familiar? You know what though, Puck? Legally, how every single one of these underage drinkers gets home _is_ your responsibility. Did you know that? And because you're a minor, it becomes your mom's responsibility. So if any one of these idiots wraps a car around a tree on the way home—your mom could go to jail for it. Think about that, rock star."

Quinn charged through the room toward Kurt and pulled him by his jacket toward her so that her face was inches from his as he fumed, "I'll have you know you're mauling an Alexander McQueen and that I may very well—"

"Be on your way to having your nose broken and bleeding all over it, Hummel. You brought Berry, right?"

Even as he felt Mercedes join him, his eyelashes fluttered. Quinn looked as ferocious as he'd ever seen her and that was saying something. "Mercedes and I brought her, yes."

She didn't loosen the hold on his jacket, "And you think it's okay to let her get drunk and offer her up to two of your Dalton horn-dogs?"

Kurt put a firm hand on Quinn's wrist, "We gave her a ride to the party, Quinn. And she may be short but she's our age and we didn't think babysitting was part of the agreement."

Quinn looked from Kurt to Mercedes and shook her head in amazement, "Seriously? You see what she's doing?"

They all looked to the dance floor where Rachel was making an abysmal spectacle of herself.

Quinn released Kurt's shirt and glared at him and Mercedes, "You should be ashamed of yourselves. And before you go off on me about what a bitch I am, if you guys had my power, blood would be running in the halls in McKinley, not slushies. You're no better than I am and actually you're a lot worse. Because I'm taking Berry home before she gets hurt and or knocked up tonight. Oh and also so she can knock you out of all the solos she deserves and you don't until we graduate. Which is part of the reason you aren't helping her when she obviously needs it, right?"

She turned and made her way toward Rachel only to be stopped by Santana and Brittany who were clearly a few sheets to the wind and hanging all over each other. "Hey Q!"

Quinn took a deep breath because she was always nice to Brittany, "Hi, B." She nodded at Santana who smirked, "Oh shit, Q. Are you getting a load of manhands out there? It's on tonight—I can hear the time-clock on that V-card running out as we speak."

She had never wanted to punch Santana more in her life, "Really? You think that's funny?"

"High-larious—and I mean high. Look at her."

They all looked at Rachel and Quinn noticed that Brittany shifted in place and frowned. Finally, someone else with a brain.

"It's not funny."

Brittany looked at Quinn hopefully and nodded vigorously. "Q's right, San. Rach needs to go home."

Santana scoffed, "What the fuck, B. Let her live a little. Might loosen her up."

Quinn pulled Santana close to her and hissed in her ear. "Look at her. Think about our Britts all alone at a party and being that fucked up and guys crawling all over her and nobody to help her. Would that be funny to you?"

As Santana watched the two boys groping a dopey faced Rachel and her allowing it because she was trashed and just didn't know any better, it stung the shit out of her to admit that it could easily, easily be Brittany if not for her.

She shrugged away from Quinn, "You know what, B? You're right. Fuck that. Let's get the midget outta here."

Brittany shot Quinn a smile as they following Santana to where Rachel and the two boys were dancing.

When she tapped Boy One on the shoulder, he turned to her and smiled and looked beyond her to a frowning pair of blondes. Whatever. More hot _chicas_. "Ssup?"

"Just wanted to give you the heads up that the dwarf's had enough party and she's going home."

It took Rachel a few seconds to register that the boys had stopped dancing with her and when she had, she squinted to focus on the interruption. She smiled hazily. "Sssantana!"

"Yeah, Berry. Time to go home."

Rachel shook her head. "Party started."

"Nope. The party just ended."

"No. Just got here—having fun with…" she glanced between the boys and shrugged, "whoever these…are."

Boy Two smiled and put his hand on Rachel's hip, "Yeah. Get lost, cockblockers."

Brittany immediately grabbed Santana's arms and, with effort, kept her from hitting the boy.

Quinn stepped around them to address Boy One and Two, "You don't have to leave the party but Berry's going home. That's not a request. It's what's going to happen."

"Yeah? And who the fuck are you?"

Quinn smiled, "Your worst nightmare if you keep talking. Ask anyone in the room."

Rachel shook her head, then nodded and scratched her nose as she slurred, "S'true. Former dance partners, run! She's Armageddon. Except forever."

"Thanks, Berry."

Rachel pointed her finger at her chest then at Quinn, "Truth to power!"

As Quinn rolled her eyes, Brittany released Santana who snarled, "_So_. Got that? Nothing to see here, douches. Definitely no one to do here."

The boys glared but backed down. "Whatever—there are plenty of hotter bitches here."

Brittany grinned, "Uh…like where? We're the four hottest girls in the room."

Santana high-fived Brittany and as the boys departed, Rachel waved after them. The taller blonde took one look at Rachel, who was obviously about to pass out and said, "Rach?"

"Britt?"

"I'm carrying you to Quinn's car."

Rachel didn't seem to think it odd that Brittany wrapped an arm around her to support her as she answered, "Really? Where…if it's a trick…she leaves me outside…I'll freeze…manslaughter…no college for her!"

"She's taking you home, Rach."

Rachel smiled and tried to focus, "Why?"

"Because you need to go to sleep and I'm carrying you because you're so little and cute. It'll be fun."

Santana felt a surge of irritation and Quinn smiled as Rachel stared at her, "Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"You know where I live?"

"Of course I do. I'm obsessed with you. Haven't you noticed?"

"Making fun of me!"

"When isn't she, Rupaul?"

Brittany said, "San, be nice and no, Rach, Quinn's not making fun," before she quite easily tipped Rachel into her open arms and carried her through the room like a groom carrying a bride across the threshold.

The tiny girl accepted this treatment without comment, rested her head on Brittany's shoulder and closed her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: It's Not Like I Wanted This to Happen**

**A/N: All ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

* * *

As the three cheerleaders took Rachel through the room, teenagers parted like the Red Sea. As they reached the porch and slammed the door behind them, a very flushed Finn rushed out of the house and stood in front of them. "What's wrong with Rachel? Let me have her. I can carry her."

"Oh for reals? Berry's drunk, Finnessa, and Britts is doing just fine so get back to macking on that ho from Carmel."

"I wasn't—"

"Paying attention to your ex-girlfriend in distress? No, Finn, you weren't. So we are."

Finn looked down into the hazel eyes of his other ex-girlfriend for a moment. A light seemed to come on in his eyes and he furrowed his brow. "Wait-a-second. Is this some sort of prank?"

"Yes, Professor Hudson. It's a prank called get Berry out of a skank party and take her home so she can sleep it off safely. And if you think for one second any of the three of us believe she'd be safe with you in this condition, you need to take another bong hit."

"I would never—"

"Ssstop!" Rachel chose this moment to open her eyes, lift her head, "Chiv…chiv…"

"Chivas Regal," Brittany offered.

Rachel laughed and butted her head three times into Brittany's shoulder, "Nnnope. Good guess though…Quinn…chiv..al..ry."

"You're like a tiny little goat when you're drunk, Rach. That's so cool. What's chivalry?"

Rachel scrubbed her face with one hand. "Huh. I don…that…iss complic…" she sighed, "chervil's clos'nough. Chervil's an herb…for…cooking."

Brittany followed that a little but frowned, "Okay, but _seriously_? Quinn's not going to cook you. That'd be _so_ mean."

"I know, right? G'way Finn. Quinn…won't…cook me." Rachel giggled, "With chervil, any…whatev…just chivalry." She took her hand off her face and flapped it, "Who knew?" She settled on Brittany's shoulder again and closed her eyes.

Finn looked deeply concerned, or maybe just constipated, Quinn thought in the privacy of her mind. He scratched his head, "You promise you're only taking her home?"

"Like any promise I make means anything to you, Finn? But yes, S and B are helping take Berry to my car and I, as the only completely sober person on this block, am taking her home. Get out of the way and back to Carmel girl. Any luck and she won't be riding Matt's lap before you get back."

He nodded, patted Rachel on the shoulder, said "Call me if you need me," and went back to the party.

As they walked down the stairs, Rachel said, "Boyss…idiotsss…"

* * *

Putting an unconscious Rachel Berry in the passenger seat of a car was an exercise in brute strength and agility on Brittany's part (which she shrugged at because she had it in spades), tolerance on Santana's (which she did not) and anxiety on Quinn's. Once they'd gotten the seat belt fastened around the girl, Quinn asked, "How are you two getting home?"

"Walked here and walking back to Britts' house. We'll be cool."

"Stick together, S. That party's way too off the chain tonight."

"No shit. Too much of everything. I think we'll just go get our coats now and I'll walk my baby home."

"Need a lift?"

"Nah—get the hobbit home before she hurls."

"Hobbit, home, hurl. Oh wow," Brittany's face brightened, "Three of the same consonants. That was alliteration and consonance, San."

Quinn and Santana stared at each other as they always did when lightning struck Brittany with some arcane and random knowledge.

Quinn shook her head, "It _was_ Britts—and never, ever change. San, do me a favor. Tell Hummel I'm taking Berry home. Just in case he and Mercedes were obsessing over themselves while we were walking through the room. They'd both have a major case of 'Quinn's gonna kill us for losing the dwarf blues.'"

"I'd rather twist'em on that hook but will do."

"And tell Puck nighty-night for me."

"Which in Santana-speak means 'Later, asshole?'"

"Bingo. Just like a Hallmark card. Text me and let me know you made it home."

"Right. You too."

* * *

Quinn didn't have a lot of time to think because, really, nothing in Lima was too far away from anything else. As she approached the Berry home, she wondered what the etiquette was for delivering an unconscious daughter late on a Friday night to two gay dads who probably knew you'd pretty much blighted every waking day of said daughter's high school life.

She snorted at the thought. That awkward moment when...

She parked on the street and tried to rouse Rachel, with no results. She sighed, got out of the car and opened the passenger door. She unfastened the seatbelt, leaned down—in a bitch of a position needing, _hello_, a breathtaking brute strength and agility that left Quinn a little dazed in admiration for Brittany's having made it look so damned easy. She lifted Rachel out of the car just as Brittany had put her into it and kicked the door shut. _Fuck_, she was heavy for a dwarf. Easily a buck 2.

She walked quickly up the path that led to the Berry's front porch and curse-climbed the five stairs to the door. Before she could ring the doorbell, Rachel chose the moment to raise her head and vomit all over both of them in such a copious quantity that Quinn couldn't quite believe she wasn't actually dreaming. And then Rachel seemed to pass out again, leaving what looked like a full quart of gnarly between their bodies. Quinn looked down, reflex-gagged, then up, moved toward the door and frantically stabbed her pinky at the doorbell.

She heard the men speaking, clomping toward the door before they opened it, felt a pure rush of horrified adrenaline and, because she was never more a Fabray than when cornered, she lifted her head and made her face cool and expressionless.

When they whipped the door open, all of them stood still for a moment.

Quinn saw two men in matching blue pajamas. One was tall and handsome with a shaved head and gorgeous black skin. The other was much shorter, had black curly hair and was wearing glasses. He had Rachel's complexion, nose and eyes or, actually, she supposed it was vice versa. Obviously bio-dad.

They saw Quinn Fabray, a girl who'd tormented their daughter since they were both six years old. They'd never met her. They'd never actually had cause to or wanted to meet her because Rachel had always been adamant they never speak to school officials about the bullying she endured. They'd only seen her two handfuls of times since the girls had begun high school, occasionally when picking Rachel up from school or during Glee performances.

The moment didn't last long. Both men moved forward as the shorter man said quickly, "Oh my God! What have you done to her? Give her to my husband—or wait, should she be moved? Why is her head like that—oh my God! Is her neck broken? You idiot! You're carrying her and her neck's broken!"

The taller man put a hand on his husband's shoulder, "Jacob. I can smell the liquor from here. Her neck's fine. Calm down." His voice was kind but his eyes were not as he moved forward, "I'll take her."

Quinn's voice was flinty and she tightened her hold on Rachel, "No you won't. I've got her. Hello. I'm Quinn Fabray. You're Jacob and Eric Berry. You hate me with good reason but I walked into a party twenty minutes ago and found your daughter trash-drunk dancing with two teen-aged guys hands all over her. I took it upon myself to get her out of there and get her home. So whatever attitude you want to justifiably throw at me you can save for later. And speaking of throwing—if you look a little closer, your daughter just threw up all over both of us. This is the game plan. One of you is going to reach in the right front pocket of my jeans for my keys and get my gym bag out of my car so I can change and the other is going to lead me to a bathroom so we can clean both of us up and let her throw up again. Both of my parents are drunks, okay? So I promise you that's happening. And if it happens again on me, _I'm_ throwing up. Got it?"

Eric peered at the space where Quinn and Rachel's joined bodies were holding the vomit off the porch.

"Jake—get Quinn's keys."

"But—"

"I'm taller and closer to this than you are and I promise you'll throw up if you see it in all its glory. It's…for want of a better term…_chunky_."

With that word, Jacob Berry paled and glared into Quinn's eyes as he moved forward and dug into her pocket. Even as he looked at her, he saw what he imagined Rachel did. Despite everything, she was the most beautiful female he'd ever actually met in real life. He wanted to intimidate her. He wanted her to flinch under his gaze but, even in this situation—meeting two older people she should feel frightened by—she met his eyes coolly, completely uncaringly. He had a sudden flashback on seeing that, of feeling that, feeling like a bug in high school. And as if she'd read his thoughts, she said, "I'm not the person you're remembering, Mr. Berry. And I'm not even the person your daughter thinks she knows. My Cheerios' bag is in the trunk."

She turned to Eric Berry. "Could you point me to the nearest rest stop?"

Eric led her down a short foyer toward a set of stairs to the right. "It's up here—are you sure you have her?"

"Absolutely. I'm a cheerleader. I pick girls up six days a week—and that's not as fun as it sounds. As a gay man, I'm sure you're feeling me." She grinned up at him shyly, not knowing why she'd had to courage to say that or even why she followed it with, "I'll be sore as hell tomorrow but I'd never drop Ra—Berry."

He looked into her eyes for a long moment and kindness immediately reached his eyes. He beamed at her, then led the way to a spacious bathroom with a garden tub.

"Mr. Berry—"

"Eric—two many Berries in da house."

"Eric. I'm going to hold her. I think we need some towels—towels you don't want anymore—and some wash cloths, some pajamas for her and a couple of bottles of water."

When he rushed back with supplies and his furious husband had joined them with Quinn's bag, she said, "Okay, Eric? If you don't mind? Minimize spillage. Tamp some of this off between us."

Eric did so as Quinn closed her eyes and Jacob gagged.

There was at one point an audible splat on the floor and Quinn's eyes swam with very-close-to-vomiting tears for a moment. "I hope this is the most disgusting thing I'll ever live through because if it's not, I don't even know what to say."

A couple of towels later, she said, "Okay. I'm going to sit her on the toilet for a sec," which she did, pinioning the small girl to the seat by straddling her on the toilet. She shook her aching arms out, then grabbed another towel and wiped her hands. She pulled the scrunchie from out of her hair and pulled Rachel's hair into a ponytail.

"Okay. Ready. Eric? Jacob? You've seen girls in bikinis right?"

They nodded.

"Well, pretend that's what you're seeing because this disgusting sweater's coming off."

She gingerly pulled off her vomit-soaked sweater, leaving her in her jeans and a black bra. "Sorry about this but deal with it. I'll put something on after I deal with your kid."

She doubled a towel on the floor and then tapped Rachel on the cheek, "Time to wake up, Berry."

Rachel shook her head a little.

Quinn raised her voice, "Seriously? Berry? Time to wake up!"

Rachel began to snore.

"RUPAUL! MANHANDS! WAKE THE FUCK UP OR YOU _KNOW_ I'LL _MAKE_ YOU WAKE UP!"

Rachel started into frightened wakefulness then immediately into something else. Neither of the Berry men would ever have believed if they hadn't seen it how expertly Quinn lifted their daughter, spun her, kicked open the toilet lid and lowered her to her knees on the towel she'd placed there so the girl could throw up, again and again and again.

And when she was nearly through and Quinn was holding Rachel's shaking body over the bowl, Eric saw the blonde girl rub a tear from her face with her own shoulder.

When it was finally over, he gave Quinn a wet washcloth and she wiped Rachel's face.

"Why am I crying," she moaned. "My nose is running."

"You just threw up, Rach. That's normal."

Rachel stared at the toilet water. "No. Please God, no. Quinn?"

"Sorry. But yep."

Rachel's shoulders sagged at that well-known voice.

Quinn motioned for a bottle of water and Jacob twisted the cap off and handed it to her.

"Swish and spit twice, Rachel."

Rachel did as she was told and then crawled backward and rested with her back against the tub. She looked up at her parents blearily and then at Quinn who was wildly and inexplicably underdressed.

"I guess at this point I should just die now, right?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: It's Not Like I Wanted This to Happen**

**A/N: All ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

* * *

The Berry men noticed that, although Rachel had acknowledged them with a glance, her attention was riveted to Quinn. Both of them wondered whether their daughter was just that frightened of her.

Quinn plopped down on the floor. "Dying at this point would be a little dramatic even for you, Rachel."

Rachel shook her head to clear it, "You called me Rachel."

"Well, _yeah_. I'm sitting with you on the floor of your bathroom in my bra with your dads watching my every move just in case I pull out some high school bully ninja gung fu on you. I think we can work on a first-name basis."

"Spinach dip."

Quinn blinked. "Okay. That was random. Come again?"

Rachel took a deep breath before she carefully and obviously made an effort to sound reasonable, "Spinach dip made me sick."

Quinn immediately understood that throwing up had made Rachel just that slightest bit more sober, enough to think she could be crafty in front of her parents about the fact she'd been drinking. She also felt a renewed wave of nausea knowing what the green stuff on her sweater was and she didn't think she wanted to know but asked anyway, "What was all that orange stuff?"

"Orange stuff…oh—carrots."

"There's no way Puckerman had carrots and spinach dip at his party."

"I brought them. Vegan snacks. Anxious…ate it all."

"Gotcha. And what'd you happen to wash those healthful vegan snacks down with, Mighty Mouse?"

Rachel instantly shot her a 'not in front of my fathers' death-glare complete with an almost thunderous frown. Quinn thought on the intimidation scale from one to ten, the look scored about a minus two.

"News flash, Rachel. Your parents know you've been drinking tonight. You're drunk. It was irresponsible and illegal but it's not the end of the world and I know your fathers don't think so. It's a rite of passage I'm sure they went through and I'm sure they're glad you survived it without something like a car crash or hey, even something crazy like a teenage pregnancy. You're home and safe so all they're doing right now is thanking your lucky gold stars."

Eric thought, _damn, but this girl was good_. It was the perfect thing to say for his and Jake's benefit. Acknowledging Rachel's wrongdoing but throwing in the mitigating factors of youth, the truth that they, too, had done the same thing back in the day, the relief they should feel that no harm had come to their daughter and even the self-deprecating reference to her own far worse experience with alcohol. The fact that their hearing this was an incredibly skilful bit of manipulation meant to frame a gentler response from them to benefit Rachel was not lost on him.

Quinn offered Rachel her bottle of water. "Drink a few sips and see how it sits in the Shire."

Rachel took the bottle and huffed, "I resent that. I'm not a hobbit."

"I know you're thirsty but don't drink too much. That's what got you here in the first place." Rachel glared at her again. Quinn shrugged, "And feel free to resent away, Rachel, because you _are_ sort of a hobbit."

Rachel looked into Quinn's eyes, saw only kindness and mischief in them, and was stunned to realize she wasn't being ridiculed—she was being teased. She nodded and took a sip of water, then looked up at her parents, "I have questions."

"Yeah, baby girl?"

"Punishment tomorrow?"

"Absolutely."

"And," she turned to Quinn and half-whispered, "How am I here? And where's your shirt?"

Quinn ran her hands through her hair, "What do you remember?"

"Dancing and…throwing up."

"Okay. You're only missing about twenty minutes. Short story. I got to the party late, saw you dancing with two douches from Dalton. It was clearly a train wreck except they were the train and you wouldn't have even been a car—you'd have been a pedestrian. So I got San to back me up and we got you away from them. Britts carried you to my car, I drove you home, I carried you to the porch where you threw up on us and then I carried you to the bathroom. That's why I took my sweater off and why you need to change into your pajamas. And take another sip of water, Rachel."

The girl nodded again, sipped, then seemed to really register what Quinn had said. She looked down at the ruins of her sweater and jeans, dropped her water and gagged as Quinn jumped forward and pulled her to the toilet in an instant.

Rachel looked at the water and took a few shuddering breaths before saying, "False…alarm."

"No problem. It _is_ disgusting so let's get us changed."

"Us? No. Well—you. Of course you but I…that's nice but change myself."

Quinn ran that through her drunk translator. "You think you can change yourself? Okay. Let's see you stand."

Rachel tried to lift herself up from the toilet but sank back to her knees.

"Just a guess. Room spinning?"

"Like a top."

"Okay. No probs. Your dads will turn their backs and I'll help."

Jacob offered, "Obviously, Quinn, as her parents, we should probably be the ones to—"

"To do what?" Those three words with Quinn's raised hand both silenced and angered him. "I mean this sincerely with no disrespect intended but please. No 16 year old girl wants her clothes changed by her father unless she's in the hospital and has no other choice or something."

Eric silently agreed with this even as his husband said otherwise, "Like she wants someone who's hurt her for years and she's afraid of to help her dress. She'd prefer that? Is that what you're saying?"

Quinn paled as if she'd been stricken but she rallied instantly and said, "Really? After I…you know what? _Fine_. Whatever. I'll leave you guys to it." She grabbed her bag, unzipped it, pulled out a sweatshirt and slipped into it like there was a fire sale she needed to get to.

It took Rachel a few extra seconds to understand what her dad had said to Quinn but all the motion and emotion was swirling around and it was all too much so she could only say, "STOP!"

They stared at her.

"Quinn!"

Quinn's mouth was a thin line, "What?"

"Don't leave. Daddy, help with Dad."

"You got it, baby girl." Eric nudged his husband, "The past we can deal with at another time, Jacob. Tonight Quinn brought our daughter home safely to us and you've thrown her kindness back in her face. That's a terrible example for our daughter and you should apologize."

Hearing this, Quinn felt like her head would explode. In her family, her parents—all adults were an undivided front no matter how incredibly fucked up their opinions or actions were.

She was astonished that Jacob blushed before saying, "My husband's right. I was inexcusably rude. I'm—_we're_ all tremendously grateful for your help. I believe that occasionally it's difficult for me to be reminded that Rachel doesn't have a mother in the home—or at least another female to help with these things. That's my personal insecurity and I shouldn't have let it guide my behavior. Please accept my apology and if you're still willing, please help Rachel get changed."

That was such a very Berry apology that Quinn could only smile before she noticed that his daughter was doing that thing with her chin and mouth that meant tears were on the way. And 3…2…1. There they were. She grabbed the damp washcloth and ran the hot tap until the water was warm. She re-moistened the cloth, knelt by Rachel and wiped her face, "What's with the waterworks?"

Her voice sounded like a tiny child's, "Going to leave me!"

"I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

Rachel only cried harder and Quinn awkwardly patted her, "Okay, really—what's wrong?"

The girl shook her head and ferociously wiped at her tears with her hands, "Don't make fun of my underwear!"

Both Berry men and Quinn actually did a double take at this and it took every bit of the blonde's self-control not to shout with laughter. She forced herself to remember that this was not only Rachel but drunk Rachel. "I promise you before God that I will never speak of your underwear to another living soul, okay?" Rachel blinked, nodded and wiped her eyes.

"But I also swear if you have owls or prancing unicorns on your panties I will mock you privately until the day we die. And I mean that. In 70 years I will call you collect from the Lima Nursing Home and remind you in whatever mansion divas like you end up in that I knew you when. You got me?"

"I don't have animals."

"Let's see the proof. First thing's first, though. You've earned the next positive step forward for drunk—off the bathroom floor. So kick off your flats and up you go." She closed the toilet lid, offered Rachel her hand as she pulled her up, then sat her down on the toilet.

"Next, I'm getting out of these jeans and putting on some sweats because I'm seriously skeeved about the spinach marinade I'm trying not to notice is on them. And that would be your cue to turn around, gentlemen."

Eric and Jacob moved just outside the door and turned their backs.

Quinn pulled sweatpants out of her bag and she saw Rachel look down at the floor as she reached for the zipper of her jeans.

"Rachel?" The girl looked up.

"I guess I didn't think about your not being used to this. I undress and shower with seventeen other girls six days a week, so it's no big deal to me. But if it is for you, I respect your modesty, okay? I don't think it's dumb—I just don't get to have any myself."

"No. You do. Don't say that."

"Well, okay. Point taken. But not about this stuff." She quickly peeled off her jeans and, as she pulled on her sweats said, "You can't turn around yet, Eric and Jacob, but Rachel can now verify that all of my underwear is black—just like my heart."

Rachel snickered as she looked up then blushed as Quinn winked at her and pulled her sweatpants over black panties.

"Let's get this sweater off. And sorry to say, I'm thinking it's a goner just like mine. So you start and I'll help with the slipping it over your head." The sweater was still quite damp and smelled like exactly what had been dumped on it. "This is gonna be way gross—so let's just rip the Band-Aid off." They both sighed in relief when they got the sweater off without either of them gagging.

Quinn looked down at Rachel and was mortified to feel herself blushing so she said overly cheerily, "Okay. We have a perfectly reasonable pink bra with green splotches on it. I'll turn away and you're taking that off because A—nobody but TV characters sleep in their bras and B—I think a little Spot Shot will save it."

She busied herself digging under the pile of towels Eric had brought her until she found Rachel's pajamas. Pink flannel with gold stars. Of course. She held out the top and felt Rachel take it and a few seconds later heard, "Got it, Quinn."

Quinn turned and the girl did indeed have the top on but she was peering at it as if she hadn't remembered that it needed buttoning and that she was leaving a strip of caramel skin exposed to the other girl. Which _so _wasn't fair of life at all. Because Quinn has said it herself at the party. She was obsessed and she'd been so careful—she'd so studiously deleted the emotional email that kept spamming her from her heart to her brain about this girl. And now? _Fuck._

She swallowed hard, then knelt and forced her hands not to tremble as she helped Rachel button her top.

Rachel smiled at her, "Thanks. I got tired."

"Understandable. Okay, all done. Your jeans next. The deal is—you stand up and get them started, then sit down and I tug them off. Then I put the pajama bottoms on until it's time for you to stand and pull them up."

Rachel stared at her. "Lot to remember. Help me?"

Quinn sighed. "Okay. First you stand up. There you go. Now I steady your arms with my hands and make sure you're okay while you unzip your jeans and pull them down past your hips."

Quinn looked at the wall as Rachel worked for a few seconds and then frowned.

"What's wrong, Rachel?"

"Jeans too tight. Underwear coming off with them."

Quinn rolled her eyes. If that was how the universe was going to play it? "Fine. If you don't mind, I'll hold the top of your underwear and you'll pull on the jeans."

"Game on!"

"What?"

"Was that wrong? Noah says it."

"No, you weren't wrong. But Puck's a whore so don't talk about game with him unless it's Super Mario. If you want that conversational lobotomy, feel free."

Quinn looked down and gripped what were, surprise!Not pink underwear and then looked at the wall as the small girl struggled with her jeans. "And for the record, Rachel, NEVER let a boy help you like this."

Eric boomed out, "Preach, Quinn!"

Rachel began to giggle and rested her forehead on Quinn's chest.

Quinn looked at the ceiling and made a lightning analysis of her situation. Rachel Berry was pressed against her and the girl's head was on her chest. She was holding Rachel freakin' Berry's underwear. Rachel Berry's two gay dads were eight feet away. And this, apparently, was her life.

She shook Rachel gently, "Keep moving. We've got to get these jeans off sometime tonight."

Rachel raised her head, "Sorry. Forgot."

"No problem. Let's do it."

"That's what she said."

Quinn gritted her teeth. "God help me. Puck, right?"

"Was that wrong?"

"No, it wasn't wrong. Pants down."

Rachel giggled again, "That's what she said."

"Rachel Barbra."

"Dad?"

"No more playing. Focus. Quinn's trying to help you and you're making it harder for her."

Rachel's face fell and Quinn felt a moment of panic thinking she might cry so she smiled at her—beamed at her as she worked on her jeans and finally said, "Next step. Sit on the toilet and I'll pull them off."

Quickly done, leaving Quinn on the floor facing Rachel's long, beautiful legs. She snorted and choked back a laugh. The sweater was a goner. And she was a goner.

So she swung back across that news flash as she encouraged one of Rachel's feet into the pajama pants with, "Pick up that hoof, little pony."

Rachel, having been scolded by her dad, picked up her foot and Quinn slid the pajama leg over it even as the smaller girl said, "I resent...the—"

"I know, Rachel Barbra Resentment Berry. Next hoof, little pony."

Rachel picked up her other foot and Quinn slid the other leg of the pajamas onto her.

"You're comparing me to a pony because?"

"Ooh—a full sentence. You may be semi-sober soon."

Rachel death-glared her again and it now scaled at minus five.

"Okay. You're tiny but have long slender legs, have large lovely eyes, a pretty mane, love carrots and stamp your feet a lot, especially when you don't get your way. What about that analogy is lacking in your opinion, Rachel?"

They both vaguely registered Jacob saying, "_Oy_—it's true" in the background even as Rachel gaped at her. Quinn said, "Stand up." She dragged the pajamas onto the girl and sat her down.

"Parental units? Turn around. We're both decent."

They turned and entered the bathroom, both delighted to see their daughter looking much more herself.

Quinn rocked in place because she wanted to run, "I think I can go now. She's ready for bed except for the whole teeth-brushing thing but I'd really suggest you let her sit and finish her bottle of water because she might get sick again."

She knew she was rambling even as she said, "But she needs hydration and now I'm thinking about it and I should probably stay because then she'll need to use the bathroom and that might be embarrassing for you guys, too."

"It's not your problem. Go if you want to, Quinn."

Even as she said this, Rachel felt strange, electric, crazy and completely turned upside down. She knew she was drunk and she knew she should just push Quinn as far away as she could because really, what was the point?

"I don't want to leave you, Rachel."

Rachel closed her eyes for a moment at that answer. That could not be true. Could not be true. She could fight back. She opened her eyes and ginned up every sober part of her to give a response, "The pony thing is dumb but true. Funny. How about telling letting my dads know why you call me a hobbit, Quinn?"

Quinn's reaction wasn't at all what Rachel thought it would be.

She only shrugged and sank to the floor in front of Rachel, "I'm fine with that. Drink your water and your parents can sit on the side of the tub and I'll tell you why you're a hobbit."


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: It's Not Like I Wanted This to Happen**

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

* * *

Eric and Jacob took a seat on the side of the tub as Quinn grabbed the second bottle of water before sitting on the floor in front of Rachel. She twisted it open and took a look sip before she spoke. "Okay. Why I call Rachel a hobbit, by Quinn Fabray."

Rachel scowled at her but Quinn only grinned. "I bet, and for understandable reasons, you think I'm suggesting you're an unnaturally tiny creature with hairy feet?"

Rachel nodded.

"You saw the movies, right?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Well, as you know the _Fellowship of the Ring _came out when we were too young to watch it and because my parents are a little…let's call it _zealous_…about movies that have themes that aren't necessarily Christian, I didn't get to watch it until I was twelve and at a sleepover at Santana's. I was super excited to see it but I promise you, I swear to you, from the _second_ I saw Frodo, I was completely hacked because I couldn't believe I'd been waiting to see a movie about Rachel Berry."

She took another sip of water. "When I was twelve, I couldn't have told you why that was without sounding just as rude and stupid and childish as I usually do with you but I watched it again just last week and I think I can express it a little better now. Actually, I've given a lot more thought to it than you'd imagine. So. Frodo is tiny and beautiful, sweet and gentle and good."

Quinn dropped her eyes from Rachel's, stared at her bottle of water and picked at the label on it as she continued. "But although he's also almost powerless, life gives him a destiny much, much bigger than he is, something golden and precious he knows he has to give the world."

She took a sip of water. "That means he has to leave his safe and happy home and fight his way through a world that's mean and vicious, petty, jealous, spiteful and hurtful. Every day he lives through what life throws at him and sometimes it's so hard, so brutal and he's hurting so badly, he doesn't think he can make it. But he looks at his ring and he knows his purpose and that it's more important than his feelings. So he lifts his head up and keeps moving forward even though he knows the next day won't be any better and probably even worse. He keeps going because he's incredibly brave and because he's a hero." She looked up and met Rachel's eyes. "A metaphorical hero in Tolkien mythology. You do like your metaphors, don't you, Rachel?"

There was a long pause before Rachel said, "Yes."

Quinn placed her bottle on the floor and pulled herself to her knees in front of the smaller girl. "We're all _living_ metaphors, Rachel. Most of us are just stand-ins but you're a hero—and that means your life is an adventure. That movie showed me something I didn't understand when I was twelve. I didn't understand it—or you—at all until I had my own nine month adventure with Beth."

Quinn put a hand on Rachel's knee.

"It's really, really _hard_ to be a hero and adventures aren't necessarily fun. Sometimes they're sad and painful and scary and lonely."

Rachel blinked and tears fell.

"It's no surprise that there are people trying to stop you, Rachel. They know what you are. You're special and they're not. They can feel it. And as someone who's known you and am deeply ashamed to have hurt for ten years, I can promise you that's the truth. So when I'm watching TV five years from now and I see you winning your first Tony or Grammy or whatever and I totally know that will happen, okay? I'll be so grateful that you fought for it and that nothing and no one, _especially me_, kept you from being the hero you were meant to be. So….that's it. You're a beautiful, incredibly brave and amazing person I'll always feel deeply honored to have known. That's why you're a hobbit to me."

Moments passed then became two incredibly awkward and silent minutes. Quinn felt herself begin to sweat and glanced toward the tub. Jacob was frankly crying and Eric was dabbing at his eyes. She turned back to Rachel, whose face was blank. She hadn't wiped her tears, something Quinn felt nearly desperate to do because the last thing on Earth she'd wanted to do was make the girl cry.

She ginned up the courage to whisper, "Rachel?"

"Yes?"

"You're awake and not talking. Did I break you?

Rachel gave her a strange and very sweet half smile, "No, Quinn. If anything, I think you just fixed me."

Having Rachel say that to her brought up emotions that were all way too heavy for Quinn to process in front of anyone else so she replied, "That's what she said."

The spell was broken. All of the Berrys laughed and Rachel beamed at her, "Perfect."

"Alright. Time to get to bed, Frodo."

"Are you going to carry me, Legolas?"

"Ah. So I'm an elf?"

"Of course! You're tall and beautiful and blonde. Brittany can be an elf too. I think she'd like that. But Santana definitely has to be the ugly hairy dwarf."

"Excuse my language, but Santana would SO kick your ass for that. Well, she'd want to but I wouldn't let her. You think you still need carrying?"

Rachel, who was rapidly sobering, said, "No. I just think that this was my first real blow-out high school party where I got drunk and danced with strangers who I now seem to remember were fondling me rather aggressively. Evidently, despite their advances, I was picked by a cheerleader. But the head cheerleader wanted me more so she took me home. As I've said, I don't remember these things. I'm in massive trouble with my parents they're being kind enough to delay until tomorrow. That will be unpleasant. If I don't remember the only truly interesting or fun part of my evening that would be a shame."

Quinn shook her head. "A—you're talking in paragraphs again so I think you'll live. B—you're still drunk because your filter is really way—wait. What am I talking about? You never have a filter."

Eric added, "She hasn't had one since the day she could talk, Quinn. And no, you're not carrying Rachel. Baby, Quinn's a very strong young athlete but she's already dead-lifted you out of a car, carried you up a flight of stairs and held you in her arms for about ten minutes. She's done her work for the night."

Rachel popped to attention. "How thoughtless of me! Have I injured you? Have you pulled or strained yourself in any respect? If so, we have extensive first aid supplies and you are welcome to—"

Quinn gently put her right index finger on Rachel's motor mouth, "Simmer down, Frodo. No pulls. A little strain. I'll be sore but I'm fine. I'm weight-tested to 104 pounds. You only weigh 102 but I'm used to catching and doing assisted lifts, not hauling hobbits around."

"How do you know how much I weigh?"

"Maybe because I catch Carrie Greenstreet six days a week and she weighs 102 pounds?" She smiled mischievously before she added, "Because I'm the captain I could choose to catch Santana every time but that would makes her nuts."

"Why?"

"She's the lightest person on the squad, she hates being reminded of it and that would be sort a big burn for her. "

"How much does she weigh?"

Quinn actually flinched at that question, "If I tell you, you can't ever, ever tell."

The Berry men both sighed as Rachel smiled. Nobody loved a secret more than their daughter.

"I promise I won't say a word."

"Rachel, look at me. You can't even remotely suggest anything about her body size. You can't say something like 'As another person of a petite nature, I believe blah, blah blah,' which is something that you SO would do. And even if she calls you midget, you can't call her out."

"Why not? Are you saying she's smaller than I am? Because she makes fun of my height all the time. She's at least two inches taller than me."

"How about this. She's prone to violence? That said, she _does _make fun of you and she _is_ taller but she _is_ smaller. The difference is that what she says to you only stings you a little. Being small, for Santana, nearly kills her because how would you feel if you only weighed 97 pounds and had to take care of Brittany? How mean would you have to be and how much attitude do you think you'd have to have to keep people so scared of you they'd never make fun of Brittany? And Rachel, please. You know _exactly_ what kids would say to Brittany if Santana weren't so scary."

Rachel tilted her head to one side, "I must say I've never considered that. That explains a great deal."

"When you think about Santana—and it personally keeps me from strangling her nearly every day of my life—filter everything you know about San through Brittany. She's Britt's hero."

Rachel took a really deep breath. "I can't remember how much Santana Lopez weighs and it's time to brush my teeth!"

Quinn pointed at Jacob and Eric and said, very brightly, "Because oral hygiene is a vitally important part of a healthy lifestyle!"

They smirked. Rachel snorted. "Ha! You _do_ listen to me."

"I hang on every word."

"I don't like being made fun of."

"Is that what you honestly think I'm doing?"

"I'm uncertain."

"For God's sake. Brush your teeth, Rachel."

"Did you know we have three bathrooms and I have a toothbrush in each one?"

"Of course you do."

"Although I deeply wish to floss, that is a private activity and I don't think skipping that procedure will impair my dental health."

As Rachel began to brush her teeth, her parents saw Quinn watching her with undeniable, obvious amusement and fondness. Who _was_ this person? Before Rachel spat her toothpaste into the sink, Quinn stopped her, turned to face her in the mirror. "Rach, here's my one big secret. Have you ever played mad dog?"

Rachel shook her head.

"Right. When you brush your teeth, you sort of look like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth. So mad dog!"

Quinn grabbed the toothpaste, poured a string of it on her finger and ran water over it. She used that finger as a toothbrush, ferociously worked up a bit of foam and said, "Now growl, mad dog!" She let the foam fly from out of her mouth as she growled at the mirror.

Rachel growled and laughed. They both growled and laughed as Eric and Jacob watched.

Jacob said, "That was the most insane yet true thing I've ever seen in my life."

Quinn smiled. "I aim to please."

* * *

As Rachel got into bed, Quinn looked around. It was pink and there were stars everywhere.

"Okay. And wow. This is a very, very, very Berry bedroom."

"You can't make fun."

"Is that like a mantra at this point?"

"Do I have complete and probable cause to ask that you not make fun of me?"

"You know what? If you're going to be logical, I have nothing to say. And that's a little joke, by the way."

"Dad, Daddy, late as it is, I believe I need to talk to Quinn privately. I'm fairly certain it won't result in fisticuffs."

"Rachel, can you even feel the crazy? You're sixteen and you just used the word fisticuffs for talking to a person who is, putatively, only your frienemy."

"Can _you_ feel the crazy? You just used the word putatively."

Quinn smiled at her. "What can I say? I have a great vocabulary."

Eric pulled at Jacob's arm, "We'll be downstairs. Do you need to call home, Quinn? It's really late."

"Thanks but no. My mom won't notice I'm not there. I had a question for you before I talk with Rach."

Jacob said, "Of course. Shoot."

Quinn looked into Rachel's eyes and said, "I don't know if your parents will let you have visitors tomorrow but I'd like to come over and watch a movie or have lunch or something. Because when you get drunk and you have a hangover and stuff you feel dumb and embarrassed the next day sometimes. I don't want you to feel that way."

"You mean I may feel emotionally vulnerable and you want to obviate that?"

"Nice rephrase, Berry."

Jacob snorted then said, "She'll be free for a visit, Quinn, and we'll be downstairs."

They closed the door as they left the room and Rachel frowned as she nestled into her pillow. It took a few moments before she said, "I don't understand…" she waved her hand between herself and the other girl…"this."

Before Quinn answered, Rachel said, "And it's really, frankly, hard to believe."

Quinn dipped her head in acknowledgment. "I know. We'll talk about it tomorrow, okay? "

She took Rachel's hand. "Close your eyes, Frodo, and I'll sing you to sleep."

Rachel stared at her for what seemed like a long, long time, then said, "You can't tell my dads, okay?"

Quinn nodded.

"I've always wanted a woman to sing me to sleep."

"Close your eyes, then, and I'm sorry for the selection but…"

What Rachel always appreciated about Quinn's voice was its sweetness. She could be pitchy and drift sharp but Quinn's voice was incredibly gentle and soft when hers, so strong, could not be. She knew the song—both of her fathers and she adored it. And she recognized immediately that Quinn was changing the lyrics.

_There is a rose in Spanish Harlem_

_A red rose up in Spanish Harlem_

_She is a special one, she's never seen the sun_

_She only comes out when the moon is on the run_

_And all the stars are gleaming_

_She's growing in the street right up through the concrete_

_But soft and sweet and dreamin'_

_There is a rose in Spanish Harlem_

_A red rose up in Spanish Harlem_

_With eyes as dark as coal that look down in my soul_

_And starts a fire there and then I lose control_

_I have to beg your pardon_

_I'm going to pick that rose and watch her as she grows…in my garden_

Rachel didn't move because the moment was all too frightening and perfect to disturb. She felt the slightest, softest kiss on her temple.

"Sweet dreams, Frodo."

* * *

Song: Spanish Harlem (youtube) watch?v=OGd6CdtOqEE


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

* * *

As Quinn shouldered her bag and left Rachel's bedroom, she found Eric and Jacob standing a few feet down the hall. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She walked toward them and said very quietly, "If this is the part of the evening where I get _my_ punishment, I'd honestly prefer to take it tomorrow. It's been a long night but I promise you'll get your shot because I'm completely serious about checking on Rachel. We can knock out two birds with one stone tomorrow, if you don't mind."

Once again, both men were struck by quickly composed, reserved and self-assured the girl could be when she'd been so open and vulnerable just minutes before.

Eric ran his hand over his head as he said, "This is the part of the evening where my husband sits with Rachel for a while until we're sure she's really settled and I walk you to your car."

"That's kind but you don't have to."

"Of course I do. I'm a father."

"I wouldn't know anything about that. I was disposable to my father." Before they could reply, she quickly extended her hand to Jacob, "I'll see you tomorrow, sir. I think she'll have a quiet night but if I were you I'd turn off her alarm that's preset to seven instead of six AM on weekends. Sleep will probably be a lot better for her than the elliptical. Oh—and that usual fruit smoothie thing for breakfast? Not so good. The vanilla soy milk and vegan protein powder thing she does instead will be better for her stomach with a hangover."

He stared at her as he shook her hand. "How do you know about her clock or her breakfast?"

She was grateful for the low lighting in the hall and that they shouldn't possibly be able to see her blush as she shrugged, "I've known her since we were six and she talks non-stop. I can't help but hear stuff."

Eric's mouth twitched with disbelief at this even as Jacob said, "Thank you again, Quinn, for bringing our daughter home safely to us. It was certainly a _mitzvah _on your part."

"Thank you for saying that and for tolerating my presence in your home. It was certainly a blessing to me to help her and I wish you and Rachel _Chalomot Paz_."

As he continued to stare at her, Quinn sighed and said, "My daughter's father is Jewish, Jacob. As is my daughter's real mother. And also insanely enough, my daughter's completely Jewish sort-of half-sister is sleeping right down the hall. I've been looking into Judaism so maybe I can feel a little of what she's going to be, anything that might be important to her. Even if I never know her at all, I'll know that."

Jacob's voice was very gentle, "You're truly nothing at all as I thought you'd be."

"I believe I told you that, didn't I?"

"You did. Good night, Quinn, and _Chalomat Paz_ to you, as well."

As Eric followed Quinn down the stairs he debated about whether to say something and he knew he probably shouldn't but those dejected shoulders of this poor young woman, who was, evidently a disposable daughter but hadn't wanted to dispose of her daughter? Who'd wanted to give her baby a better life and wanted to bond through learning a few tenets of Judaism, a few words in Hebrew, however she could?

He swiped at his eyes and made a decision as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Quinn?"

"Sir?"

"Eric."

"Okay…Eric."

"Can you spare me fifteen minutes and I swear I won't be doggin' you. I just wanted to show you something you might think is funny and tell you a quick story."

An odd request from the father of a friend. He saw her eyes flash immediately, not so much frightened as completely wary. He rushed to say, "I mean you no harm, Quinn."

"I know you don't, Eric. It's just—let's just—"

"No. Tell me what you're feeling."

She just blinked at him.

"Look, I know you've been hurt by your father and your child's father and I'm not about to make you feel like you're anywhere near that sort of rejection or action again. Because I promise you before God you're not."

And his saying what she didn't want to be feeling suddenly got much too intense for Quinn and he saw it as she moved back a few steps. He didn't move at all because he could see this kid visibly shrink down inside herself, saw that she'd been injured emotionally in ways his child had never been. What had he been thinking? Add a male parental figure to a strange man who might do God knows what in her imagination—it was all kinds of potentially messed up.

He took three steps back. "Take a few deep breaths, Quinn. You're in no danger at all. We can call Jacob back right now."

"No." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Please no. I mean, I know! I _know_ you aren't going to hurt me. It's just that—" Words failed her for a second as she looked into his dark kind eyes, then she half whispered, "_Please_ ignore this and show me what you wanted to."

Eric knew, from the girl's face, ignoring whatever had just happened was the kindest thing he could do.

He jerked his head toward the kitchen and she followed him into it, all black marble, chrome and tile.

"My husband cooks a lot—because he'd better or we'd starve. Rach can cook really well, too, but they can't cook together because they start talking about some sort of music or Broadway thing and stuff burns, gets forgotten, whatever."

He opened the fridge. "First thing's first. Vitamin Water?"

"Yeah—any flavor."

He handed her a bottle and they cracked them open as he flicked an overhead light and she followed him out of the kitchen down a corridor to a room that seemed strangely far away from the house. In the middle of the open door hung a square of felt cloth with a bedazzled appliqué of the letters F.O.S.

"Okay, Rachel obviously made that but FOS? What's that?

"Just like Superman, I have a Fortress of Solitude. That's what I wanted to show you."

They entered a large room that was decidedly masculine and very nicely appointed with a couch, a reading chair, pictures of the family, a desk, computer, stereo system, a medium sized flat-screen TV and a small dorm fridge in the corner.

"Have a seat on the couch."

She did as he took a seat in his chair.

"I'm not closing the door on us. But I'll tell you the door to this room is always open unless it's not. And when it's not, I'm the only one in it and unless it's a complete emergency, Jake and Rach don't get to knock or ring or in any way bring their crazy in here."

Quinn smirked at this and he smiled. "See, I'm really a sort of quiet, laid-back cat and I suspect you are too. Jacob and Rachel are the loves of my life but they are two of the most intense, talkative and least laid-back divas on Earth. I need my downtime. When the door's open, they come in and put water, juice, maybe a couple of beers or chocolate in my fridge because they both know it's not always easy for me. Despite all their 'me, me, me' they're not completely unaware of their effect on others."

Quinn was quick to reply, "I know that. Rachel doesn't—she's just so _her_ and it's like she doesn't understand what's coming out of her mouth until she sees or hears the reaction or something. She can be so…_casually_ brutal and then looks surprised that people don't like what she's said."

Quinn was more surprised to see that Eric nodded his head in agreement. "No lie. Neither of them have filters. And that's why I have this room."

She tried to grin but instead repeated, "She's just her, though, Eric. Rachel rarely means to be mean. I'm completely and intentionally cruel with no excuse except the fact I protect myself in the way I was taught by my parents and I've done it so long that it's really hard to stop."

He looked at her for a long moment. "Okay. A segue." He took another sip of his Vitamin Water and said, "Change of subject. My story. Ready for it?"

"Ready. I live for lightning rounds of subjects."

"Quinn?"

"Eric?"

"You're unexpectedly cool."

Quinn ran her fingers through her hair and stared at the wood floor but grinned. "Question. Did I know that? Answer. Yes."

"Question. What do you want for lunch tomorrow?"

"Way obvious answer. Anything Rachel wants."

"Gotcha. Here's the story and I'll make it brief."

"Okay."

It took him a few moments before he said, "It's not like I wanted this to happen."

It hung there in the air between them before she asked, "What?"

"My story. Most boys hit puberty later than girls as you know. I hit mine early. For better or worse, I was 6'4" when I was a sophomore and 15."

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow. And I wasn't bad looking back in the day and so it was really a big deal that I was the varsity quarterback and captain of the varsity basketball team when I was a sophomore, right?"

"Sure. It doesn't happen."

"It doesn't but that was me. And I was the homecoming king my sophomore year, even though the only reason I was even eligible was because I was dating the head cheerleader, who was a junior. You feel how crazy that was?"

Quinn lifted one hand, "Completely."

"But even when it was happening, the whole time, it seemed to me like I should have felt better about how great I had it, you know? I was crazy popular, had the run of the school. What more was there, right? Anyway, this was in up-state New York and all high schools are different but I gotta say I never said mean things to people or knocked them into lockers or hurt them at all because I was bigger than that literally physically and beside that, who cared? I could just ignore people who didn't matter, you know?"

Quinn bowed her head.

"I was the top of the pack and I hated my whole sophomore year. I didn't have any idea what was wrong with me when everything should have been right. And I couldn't even talk about it to my friends or even my parents because I didn't even know what _it_ was, you know what I mean?"

She nodded.

"The first day of my junior year, we got this transfer student from Ohio. There he was, all tiny with these enormous brown eyes and glasses too big for his face. He walked in and I swear to God, it was late August and still pretty hot but he was wearing wide wale cords and an argyle sweater vest over a polyester short sleeve shirt that didn't match anything he had on. He was loud and confident and enthusiastic and pushed out his hand and said to everyone, "Hello! I'm Jacob Goldstein," like he was the President of the damned United States or something."

Quinn smirked, "Sounds a little familiar."

"It should. But I tell you what, Quinn, when I looked at him? There was just something about that kid. Everything about him just…crawled all over me. And so, for the first time in my life, I threw a kid into a dumpster at lunch."

"Really? _Him_—upstairs?"

"Yep. And you know what he said?"

"What?"

"Something like, 'This is highly irregular behavior, Eric Berry. But if you'll hand me my backpack, I will eat my lunch in this container, which is surprisingly comfortable as it seems to be filled with only shredded paper goods. However, I expect you to retrieve me at the end of this lunch period as I am too small to climb out and my eating lunch in a trash dumpster is penalty enough for whatever offense I haven't committed against you.'"

Quinn smacked her forehead. "God, that's _so_ Berry. What'd you do?"

"I gave him his damned backpack and went and pulled him out at the end of lunch."

"Sucker."

"What can I say? I wasn't much of a bully but I kept trying, just for him."

Her eyes narrowed and her voice was equal parts amused and bitter. "I understand. Unless you're a complete psycho, it takes years of practice to develop a tolerance for other people's humiliation. I now have an impressive tolerance for watching other people hurt."

Eric looked at her for a long moment before he replied, "Actually, looking into your eyes, I think if anything you've developed a tolerance for your own pain."

She flinched, her eyes widened and he watched in fascination that it took perhaps three seconds for her to appear completely composed again before saying, "On with the story, please."

"Sure. I kept dumpster-tossing him but without getting him out, knocked his books out of his hands, called him names that caught on. I made fun of his clothes, his interests, his parent's car, his stupid pocket protector with his mechanical pencils in it. I reminded him constantly that nobody liked him, that he was a loser and that nobody would ever like him because just being seen around him was the kiss of death. I did these things to him every single day."

He didn't continue. They looked at each other and both saw sorrow and shame in each other's eyes.

She broke the silence, "Let me take a completely wild guess. Because you said it, it all turned out to be true for him."

He nodded, "Absolutely."

She asked more tentatively, "How'd that make you feel?"

"No matter what I did, he marched through school smiling and talking his head off like he still owned the place and, day after day, nothing I could do or say had any effect on him or impressed him. That made me feel like complete and utter shit."

She actually laughed at this, "Jesus, Eric. Were me and you separated at birth or what?"

"Apparently."

She started to speak, hesitated, then said, "Obviously, something changed."

He grinned, "Ya think?" He took a sip of his water. "I can remember it very literally like it was yesterday. I decided he needed to eat lunch in the dumpster."

* * *

"_Goldstein!" Eric clapped the smaller boy on the shoulder harshly, "Come with me. They changed the lunchroom for losers today—let me show you." _

_The few people in the hall around them laughed. Jacob sighed and obediently let the harsh hand lead him out the back of the building to the paper dumpster. He threw his backpack into it and Eric picked him up and placed him in the dumpster. _

_They looked at each other and Eric wanted to look menacing and gleeful. To Jacob he looked wretched and confused._

"_Why do you do this Eric?"_

"_You don't get to call me Eric! You're not my friend!" _

"_You don't have friends—you have sycophants. There's a difference."_

_Eric slapped the side of the dumpster hard. "I should kick your ass for that Jewnose. I know what that word means."_

_Jacob sighed again, "I know you do. That's why I used it. We have AP English together later, where you'll quite predictably throw spitballs in my hair. Answer my question. Why do you do this?"_

"_Do what? Put losers in their place?"_

"_Oh for the love of all that's holy! Eric! You're _better_ than this. You're not a moron. Listen to me. Try to hear me, okay?" _

_Eric glowered at him but didn't move._

"_I don't curse, as you know and make fun of, but this time I'll make an exception. I just want to say if all of this insane bullshit you put me through—all of it—_any of it_—made you happy, made you _at all_ happier, I'd happily just deal with it. But it doesn't so it doesn't make sense. So just tell me. _Please_. What are you _doing_?" _

_Eric stared at him for a long, long time and his only answer was, "I don't even know anymore." _

_Jacob nodded and said softly, "Yeah. I know." He was surprised but gladdened that Eric held his eyes so he continued more brightly, "It's time for lunch. Get in."_

"_What?"_

"_I said, it's time for lunch. I made lunch for you and this is where losers like me eat today so to enjoy what I've prepared, you'll have to grace me with your presence in my trash container, which I assure you is quite comfortable except for the getting out without assistance part."_

_Eric tilted his head like a dog hearing a high sound, "Wait. You made me lunch? What the fuck, Goldstein."_

"_I knew I'd be eating in the container today because you always throw me in the paper-only bin on the day before the trash men come. This assures me optimal seating comfort, which I deeply appreciate by the way, and I never suffer any anxiety that I'll be compacted even more than I am. So get in." _

"_You expect me to get in the dumpster and eat lunch with you?"_

"_Of course. Although I'm a Jew and pork's off my menu, I've heard you tout the virtues of bacon so I made you three BLTs and brought potato chips, carrots and chocolate chip cookies for side items and dessert. Everyone else is in the lunchroom so you can get in without someone seeing. Afterward, if someone sees you getting out, you can pretend you leapt in to beat me, which would be very impressive. I will let you lightly tap me on the face for verisimilitude if you like but I demand you avoid my nose." _

* * *

Quinn laughed out loud, "Oh my God! What a Berry! And he had me at bacon! What'd you do?"

"Excuse my language, but I got in that fucking dumpster and had lunch with Jacob Goldstein."

"And?"

"I remember thinking it was really weird that the happiest I'd ever been in high school was sitting in a trash dumpster with someone I thought I didn't like. I was happy with him…_because_ of him. So yeah. That's my story. I guess the point is, like I said, it's not like I wanted this to happen. I didn't exactly plan to realize I was gay when I was sixteen, you know? I couldn't have imagined I'd marry this crazy guy I thought I couldn't stand. But you know what? I am gay and I did marry him and, 24 years later, I'm still happy."

Quinn faintly smiled at him, but her smile slowly disappeared, "Why did you tell me this, Eric?"

"I don't know, Quinn. Why do you think I told you this?"

She stared at her hands clutching her plastic bottle. She finally looked up at him and answered, "Am I really that obvious?"

He shook his head, "Not at all. Maybe only to someone who's been there, and almost exactly."

They sat in a silence he was unwilling to break before she said, "I guess I have a lot more to talk with Rachel about than I thought."

"Yeah. You probably do. But it's late and you need to get home. Let me walk you out."

They walked in silence to her car. As she unlocked it, she turned and said, "Thank you, Eric."

He pulled her into a gentle hug, which she tightened as he whispered into her hair, "It'll all be okay, honey. I can't promise what'll happen with you and Rachel but I know my baby and my husband. None of us will turn our backs on you. That I can promise."

She squeezed him tightly, released him and nodded.

"Off you go. Lock your door, drive safe and call our house when you get home. Jake and I will be awake until we hear."

"Okay."

"Sweet dreams, weirdly younger blonde Caucasian wonder twin. And don't worry—what goes on in the FOS stays in the FOS."

She beamed up at him and shrugged, "For now. It's all bound to come out tomorrow, right? I mean, so to speak."

He rolled his eyes, "Night, Quinn."

"Night, Eric."

* * *

**The Hebrew word ****_Mitzvah_**** has a complex meaning in Judaism but also has the more colloquial 'everyday' meaning of an act of kindness or a blessing. ****_Chalomat Paz_** **basically means 'golden dreams.' **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. I should reiterate that this ****_is_**** AU and doesn't follow show canon. Q, S and B are obviously still Cheerios and Kurt has friends at Dalton but still attends WMHS. **

* * *

When Rachel woke up the next morning, she found it curiously difficult to open her eyes. But she knew she had to open her eyes because something was pounding on her head. Or…was that _in _her head? She felt a thrill of adrenaline course through her—a brain aneurysm! She forced her eyes open and immediately shielded them from a blazing morning sun that was far too bright for this time of day. Wait-a-minute. What time was it?

She raised herself on an elbow, turned toward her clock and then squinted to make sure she wasn't reading it wrong. 9:37? She'd never slept so late in her life. Even in her astonishment, her attention was caught by a piece of paper taped to her lamp, a note which read, _Letting you sleep in. And you're not having a brain aneurysm—it's a hangover. Love, D&Dy. _

She frowned, immediately irritated by the note. They always scoffed at her aneurysm anxiety. Although she was devoted to a healthy lifestyle, she was also undeniably a driven Type A personality and because she never had headaches and was indeed rarely ill, headaches always seemed particularly ominous to her and their lack of understanding of this issue bordered on…and then…it suddenly hit her. She collapsed back onto her pillow and immediately regretted it as her head pounded even harder than it had been. She groaned with the horror of remembering.

She'd thrown up on Quinn Fabray.

She'd thrown up on Quinn Fabray and Quinn Fabray had seen her in her underwear. Quinn Fabray had had to _help _her with her underwear.

If she hadn't been Jewish she'd have thought Jesus Christ. As it was she thought Oy.

What was even worse because it couldn't possibly have happened, although she was fairly certain it had? And what did that mean if it had? Quinn had been really amazingly nice to her. Quinn had sung what was basically a love song to her.

* * *

The Berry men had had a similarly inauspicious beginning to their morning. The ringing of the doorbell had woken them at the ungodly hour of 8AM. They'd both gone down to answer it because what could anyone want from any of the Berrys at such an hour on Saturday? As they passed their daughter's room, they were glad she seemed to be sleeping through it.

They opened the door to find an immaculately dressed, although quite anxious and fatigued-looking boy they knew to be Kurt, someone their daughter considered almost but not quite a friend.

"Hello, Mr. Berry. Mr. Berry. I apologize for the early hour. As you know, I'm Kurt Hummel. I'm afraid, because Quinn left so quickly with Rachel last night, they neglected to retrieve her bag that she'd left in my car. I took it inside once I was home, naturally, but her phone's been blowing up all morning so I thought I should bring it to her in case there's something wrong."

Jacob took the bag from Kurt and said quite sternly. "Thank you."

Kurt stalled for a second, blushed violently and spoke quickly as if he'd rehearsed the speech. "My father was waiting up for me when I got home last night because Quinn Fabray called him at 1:42AM and asked him if he knew he was raising the sort of young man who would take a young woman to a party and leave her drunk and defenseless."

He clasped his hands together and they watched his knuckles go white. "My father told me he was ashamed of me once he reminded me how badly Rachel might have been hurt because I wasn't looking out for her."

* * *

_It had been a lot worse than that. He'd taken Kurt out in the yard so that Finn and Carol couldn't hear him. It had gone on for what seemed like ages but the end was, "Kurt—I gotta tell you I'm not believing this. I've been real proud of the kind of guy you are—a good guy—a generous guy. The kind of guy who'll stop his car to help a damned stray dog even if it messes up his designer whatever. But now I'm hearing you saw this kid getting drunk and that she could have been maybe wholesale raped or done something stupid she'd never do if she wasn't? And you just watched that happening because somehow she wasn't your problem?" _

_He jabbed his son in the shoulder hard with his index finger, "You took her to the fucking party, Kurt! A stray dog's your problem but a girl you've known for years isn't? What the fuck she ever do to you Kurt?"_

_Kurt had never seen his father so angry and it left him speechless. He was way angrier than he'd been at Finn over the whole 'faggy' thing. "ANSWER ME SON! Tell me now! What the FUCK did Rachel Berry ever do to you that you'd treat her like that?"_

_Kurt had a flash of realization. Had he maybe been so dismissive, so careless with Rachel because when somebody beside him was the victim, he could just ignore it like so many people ignored him? No one cared about him. Why should he care about her? He felt a huge wave of cold, shocking shame break over him._

"_Nothing," he'd whispered, "She's never done anything. You're right. I was wrong." _

_Kurt watched his father visibly rein in his anger, "I love you more than I love anything on this Earth, Kurt. You gotta know that. But, right now? For the first time in my life, I'm ashamed of you. You're going to apologize to her and to her parents or you're going to be grounded until you graduate." _

* * *

"Again. I'm sorry for the hour but I did need to return Rachel's bag and to say to you how very, very sorry I am for my behavior—or lack of behavior last night. I'm ashamed of myself and I deserve to be. I'll call Rachel later so that perhaps, if she's kind enough, she'll hear my personal apology. Please also tell her that Mercedes has been dressed down by her mother as well because Quinn was apparently incredibly busy last night. She'll be calling, as well. Thank you for listening and my apologies once again."

The men only nodded as Kurt shot them a thin, sad smile.

When they closed the door, Eric said, "No way we're going back to sleep."

"Not a chance. Breakfast."

* * *

When Rachel shambled into the kitchen at around 10, as it had taken her a few minutes to realize that she really did have to get up and face things at some point, her fathers were reading the paper and had clearly already had breakfast.

Jacob said, "Good morning sunshine."

"It's a terrible morning and I'm dying."

Eric didn't look up from his paper, "But not from an aneurysm."

"Don't make fun of me," Rachel said as she stamped her foot and realized that was a mistake because her foot was connected to her head somehow.

"I'm not, baby-girl. Just saying. You have a hangover. Let's make you a smoothie, get something on your stomach and then you can take some Tylenol. Quinn suggested the vanilla soy and protein."

Rachel's eye's narrowed. "What?"

"Quinn knows your morning routine as well as we do."

Rachel decided to ignore this, because it was information overload, took a seat and put her forehead on the table. "If I die, I love you."

Jacob ran his fingers through her hair as he grinned at his husband, who'd put down his paper and begun to prepare the girl's smoothie, "You're not dying sweetheart, but we love you, too."

She mumbled. "Punishment."

"Yep. We'll let you know after you drink your smoothie. And by the way, your quasi-friend Kurt came by earlier."

"Earlier than this?"

They nodded and filled her in on the details of that conversation. Rachel felt even sicker than she had and whispered, "Kurt and Mercedes' _parents_? Quinn's lost her mind," before asking her fathers with fear in her voice, "Did he seem really mad at me?"

Both of them looked at her in disbelief. Eric answered, "No, baby, he looked deeply ashamed, as he should be. He didn't seem mad at all."

She sighed in her own disbelief, reached for her bag, and retrieved her phone. She began to flip through the texts.

Noah Puckerman:** Bby mm blwng up my mf-ass. X 800. Dnt thnk she slpt. So sry abt lst nght. Shld hv bn thr 4 my Jew **

She sighed again. She hated text-speak, especially when people who couldn't really spell in the first place made it up. She wrote him back**, I'm fine and yes, you should have. All will be forgiven when you grovel. And, no, grovel isn't a euphemism for sex **

Finn Hudson: **R u ok? Q tke u hm?**

She stared at this and wondered afresh at the fact that she'd actually dated him. If she weren't okay or Quinn hadn't taken her home, what would the answer be?

She typed,** Yes. To both questions. Thank you for your concern**

Mercedes Jones: **Girl. Moms got me in deep shit here and I deserve it. Sorry for leaving you hanging last night and I'm glad Q didn't. I'll call you way later so you can rest up and I hope you'll let me tell you how sorry I am **

She chewed her lip before she answered, because she'd really thought she and Kurt and Mercedes had been getting closer. **I'm sorry you're in trouble on my account. I wish you'd cared last night but better late than never, I suppose**

That wasn't very nice but there it was.

Her daddy handed her the smoothie he'd made and she said, "Thank you—I just have to answer the last few—evidently making a spectacle of myself lends me popularity."

"Take a few sips, baby. The sooner you have something on your stomach and a Tylenol chaser, the better."

She took a few healthy swigs before looking at her phone again.

Brittany Pierce: **Ur so cute, R. **

Rachel stared at the message. What could she answer that wouldn't have Santana beating her senseless?

**You are too, B. Thank you for your help last night.**

She hoped that was innocuous enough. And then one from Satan herself.

Santana Lopez: **If B wants to hug you now you have to let her or I will hurt you**

Rachel was impressed at the lack of text-speak but the threat itself was so standard-issue Santana, almost like a 'hello, Rachel' from her, how could she care?

She tapped out, **Brittany can hug me anytime she wants. I'll leave it to her discretion. I know it's pointless to ask but try not to blame me if she does **

Okay, that was bitchier than she should have been but whatever.

Her heart jumped when she saw:

Quinn Fabray: **Yes, last night happened. Yes, you feel like crap. But no, nothing's wrong. And yes, I'm coming over at 1:30 if that's okay. Just to say hi and talk.**

Her fingers trembled as she typed, **Thank you. And yes, 1:30. But please stop badgering people's parents about me. Flattering but unnecessary. **

She put her phone down, drank the rest of her smoothie as her fathers discussed the news, and jumped when the phone buzzed on the table.

Quinn Fabray: **That's where you're wrong, Rach. When a puppy pees on the floor, you scold it immediately and take it where it needs to go. Bad actions need immediate consequences. **

Rachel shook her head, then typed, **I'll defer to your superior judgement when training naughty teenagers.**

The answer was almost immediate.

Quinn Fabray: **As you should, Frodo. See you soon.**

That gave her an immediate thrill of pleasure and fright. But she took a deep breath and asked, "You know I can't stand suspense. What's my punishment?"

Jacob kissed her on the forehead, "We'd like you to tell us why you think you're being punished."

Rachel rolled her eyes, which was not only juvenile, she immediately understood, but made her head pound, "I drank at a party and I'm only sixteen. It's illegal and dumb."

They both nodded. Eric said, "Bad judgment on your part but we understand peer pressure or just wanting to have fun. But you do know what could have happened to you last night, don't you? Do you understand why Quinn took you out of that party?"

She hung her head. "Yes."

Jacob's voice was very soft, "Look at us, darling."

She looked up and saw two faces that had no anger or judgment in them, only love and concern. Jacob said, very softly, "We've told you this a lot of times but you're getting a repeat. You're a young woman, Rachel, and you have to remember that your safety is our first concern. Safety first, happiness second. Because if you're not safe, happiness can't happen."

He ran his fingers through her hair as Eric traced circles on her back, "As a woman, and we're so sorry this is true but it is, your safety has to be your first concern, too. That means you can never go anywhere that may be inherently unsafe and do things, like drinking too much, that make you unable to protect yourself or remove yourself from harm. It was incredibly dangerous, baby, and it didn't anger us so much as it deeply frightened us for you."

Both of them looked down at her and thought the same thing at the same time. With those big eyes and her amazingly expressive face, no one could look sadder than their daughter.

She leaned forward and pushed her forehead into Jacob's chest. "I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven."

She sniffed and asked hesitantly, "What's my punishment?"

"We gave a lot of thought to it and we decided on a very light one. We know you're suffering physically and probably a little emotionally already. So you're only going to hand-wash your sweater and Quinn's sweater and the towels we used to clean them last night."

Rachel turned a peculiar color and Eric grabbed her, "Need the sink?"

"No." She shook her head as she forced her stomach to behave. "But that's the most evil thing I've ever heard in my life."

"Yes. We felt a bit proud of it."

She scowled, then asked, "Can I wait until I feel a little better?"

"As long as it's today, it doesn't matter."

She nodded but her shoulders fell as she said, "Quinn's coming at 1:30."

"Great. She said she wanted to drop by."

Rachel's voice was flat, "She said she wanted to talk."

Eric nodded, "I think she just wants to check on you, baby-girl."

"I don't want her to."

"Why?"

"She's acting really different and that makes me scared. She's saying and doing all these nice things and she's singing to me and protecting me to a weirdly crazy degree and that makes me feel like something really, really terrible's just about to happen."

Tears dropped from Rachel's eyes, "You talk about safety? I promise you, I felt safer drunk at that party last night than I'll feel with Quinn Fabray being kind to me today."

Jacob wiped her tears and Eric smiled down at her. "Why don't you see what she has to say, Rachel? She was completely sincere last night, wasn't she Jake?"

Jacob nodded, "She couldn't have been nicer."

In addition to her hangover, hearing this made Rachel think her head would explode, "_Hello_, parents. I've lived with her abuse for ten years. You haven't. You don't know her. I do."

"Okay." Eric put his hand on his daughter's shoulder, "So you know her. Do you think she knows you, Rachel?"

"Are you kidding?" Rachel sneered, "She doesn't know anything about me, and what's more, she doesn't care."

"I think you're wrong, Rachel."

Rachel glared at her daddy in complete consternation. "_What?_ Oh great. That's fantastic. The golden girl visits for a couple of hours and now you're Team Fabray?"

He shrugged, "Absolutely not. I'm Team Berry 24/7/365. But I think you're wrong."

She jumped out of her seat and did a quite impressive diva storm out considering her condition.

* * *

Jacob looked at his husband and said, "You shouldn't have pushed that."

"I know—but God, she's hard-headed."

"She's scared."

"And Quinn's not?"

"Quinn's not our daughter."

"Please Jake. My first loyalty's to Rachel for the rest of my life." Eric would not break Quinn's confidence but felt he could say, "All I'm saying is that Quinn might be a good friend to Rach if she'll give her a chance. Second chances can work, you know what I'm saying? C'mon. You gave me one."

"Yeah, yeah" Jacob smiled as he remembered, "But you were really cute…for a really stupid bully."

Eric touched his nose with his index finger, then pointed it at Jacob.

And Jacob's eyes widened. "Oh…._oh_!"

Rachel stormed into her room, stormed into her shower, stormed back out into her room where she stormily dressed herself, then stormily dried her hair but, as with all of her storms, it sort of gradually dissipated into complete calm.

Her parents knew this about her so, when she came down the stairs looking much happier and refreshed, they didn't blink an eye when she hugged Eric without saying a word.

That was their daughter.

* * *

It was really weird for Quinn to approach the Berry house in daylight and ring the bell without a vomiting daughter in her arms.

Rachel opened the door, and then her fathers framed her, right behind her.

Quinn didn't say a word. She just presented a bouquet of pink and yellow Gerber daisies.

Rachel took them and stared at them, then looked at Quinn and her voice was hesitant, "Thank you." There was a long pause before Rachel asked, "What are they for?"

"I don't know. Happy first hangover?"

Rachel laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

* * *

Rachel's laughter was short and Quinn was such a focus-stealer, it was like her parents didn't exist, like they weren't right there. She had no idea what to say. "Really? Thank you, Quinn. First hangover. Well…I suppose these are flowers I'll never get again."

Quinn's response was so soft and insinuating that it made Rachel somehow itch, "Oh, I don't know. I mean of course this particular occasion's shot but who knows what might happen?"

They stared at each other as Rachel's dads stared at them, "You do like Gerber daisies, don't you, Rachel?"

Rachel looked at the flowers in her hand, "I…well…yes, I actually happen to love them."

"Look who's been paying attention."

Rachel was thinking _ohmygod _but said, "I'm sorry. Where are my manners? Please come in."

Quinn smiled at her and then past her, "Good morning, Eric. Jacob. Thank you for allowing me to visit Berry Junior in her time of woe."

This was all so weird and her face was so friendly and devoid of malice that Rachel decided in one second she couldn't reasonably take offense, which made her bristle all the more at the kind greetings her fathers gave the girl.

The atmosphere was so suddenly uncomfortable that Jacob grabbed the flowers, "A vase! I can see they're begging for it."

Rachel nodded vigorously, "Thanks, dad."

Eric asked, "Quinn, I know you and Rach want to talk a little so we were planning a late lunch—maybe an hour from now? We were thinking of ordering Thai. Is that something you'd eat?"

"Of course. Thank you. I love that restaurant." Eric smiled at her as she continued, "Thank God for the one Thai place in Lima. And I'll have whatever Rachel's having."

Rachel interjected, "Are you sure? It'll be typical Thai vegan boring."

She didn't answer Rachel. She spoke to Eric, "I'll have what Rachel's having."

Rachel caught that, his smile and said, "Oh, _great_. Whatever. I'll be in my room if any of you need me." She stormed up the stairs and disappeared.

Quinn winced and ran one hand through her hair, "_Okay_. That happened. And speaking of rooms—way tough room."

Eric put a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently, "You're an amazing young woman, Quinn, but you don't deserve her yet. It's going to be a tough sell."

She nodded and he saw the full and sad acknowledgement of his statement in her eyes. "I know I don't but I guess I should go try."

"Good luck with that. We'll call you in an hour—actually—I'll give you an hour thirty. You'll need it. Talking with Berrys takes time."

"Thanks Eric. And thank Jacob for me, too."

"Will do."

* * *

She knocked on the door and met silence. She knocked again. Silence.

"For God's sake, Rachel, we both know you're in this room. If you don't want to speak to me, open the door and say so."

The door swung open so suddenly it took Quinn's breath.

"I don't want to speak to you, Quinn. Leave!"

With everything she had, Rachel tried to slam the door as hard as she could but Quinn was too quick and jammed her foot slightly into the opening, which effectively resulted in having the full weight of Rachel's body and bedroom door pitted against the boniest part of Quinn's foot. It was diva and door for the win. Quinn barked out a sharp, "Oh my…_God_!"

Rachel, feeling the weird blunt impact and realizing what she'd done, was horrified.

"Quinn! Are you—?"

Quinn staggered away from the door and landed on the opposite hallway wall, took many sharp breaths and then viciously whispered, so as not to alert Rachel's parents, "Am I _what? Okay_? Yes! I'm _perfect!_ I was only trying to talk to you but I get it—you don't want to talk to me. I'm in a lot of agony getting it, thanks. But yes, Rachel, I'm okay and now I'm going to limp down to my car and try to drive home. As okay as okay can be."

"No, Quinn! Please! I'm so sorry. Let me get you some ice and let me look at it."

Quinn adjusted herself, her foot throbbing more violently by the second, "I don't need pity, Rachel. I don't deserve it. I came here to talk to you and I know you don't trust me but…" She knocked her head against the wall in her pain, "I'm hurting really badly right now but if it makes up for a thousandth of what I've done to you, I'm going to limp out of this house and know I still owe you more."

Rachel, seeing Quinn so pale and pained, was mortified and the girl's words made tears stream down her face. "I wouldn't hurt you for the world, Quinn. Daddy's a doctor. Please let him look at your foot."

"Actually…at this point? I don't think I have a choice." Quinn slid down the wall, flung herself on the floor and gingerly rested her bad leg on her good knee, saying through gritted teeth what Coach Sylvester had burned into her brain, "RICE, RICE, RICE. Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation. Get your father."

Rachel didn't bother to leave Quinn. She just yelled at a volume that flummoxed Quinn because it sounded like her voice was echoing through the Grand Canyon, "DADDY! DAD!"

Even as she heard the men immediately racing toward them, she said to Rachel, "Alright. Never, _ever _do that major vocal volume thing around me again."

Rachel nodded as she wiped her tears.

"No seriously."

Jacob followed Eric up the stairs, who, when he saw his weeping daughter and Quinn on the floor hit the ground immediately beside them. "What's wrong?"

"I think I—"

"I slammed the door on her foot really, really hard, Daddy."

He looked at Quinn, who was pale and perspiring, touched her skin—clammy and yeah—nearly in shock. He knew Quinn had successfully endured natural labor so this was way too much pain for something minimal. Not life threatening but really shockingly painful. He gently eased up her sweatpants leg around the ankle and even that was already swelling.

Damn. "Look at me Quinn. You're going to be fine. I'm taking that shoe off now or they'll have to cut it off at the hospital, which will hurt way worse with more swelling, okay?"

Quinn grimaced and nodded as Jacob pressed himself against the wall. He was the lightweight in the family, medically, and this was something he was struggling to stay conscious viewing.

"_Rachel's _going to hold your calf while I take off this shoe."

Jacob groaned even as Quinn said, "No."

"No what?"

"Accident. My fault. Don't…I don't know what—just don't…don't make her feel bad."

"Quinn. No. Let me help. Please." Rachel held Quinn's calf as Eric unlaced her lightweight tennis shoe and opened it as much as he could.

"This'll hurt, sweetheart."

Quinn nodded.

He pulled it off as Quinn stifled a scream and whispered, "OhGodohGodohGod."

"Rachel, I need some scissors."

Rachel rushed into her room and brought them back.

He cut Quinn's sock off her foot and looked at it.

"I'm sorry, honey, and you'll need an x-ray but I'm fairly certain you've got at least a hairline metatarsal fracture."

"How long?"

"What do you mean?"

"How long until I get to practice or dance?"

"Maybe six to eight weeks."

Quinn didn't even look at Rachel, who felt like an entire house of guilt had just collapsed on top of her.

"Fine. Would you mind taking me to the hospital, please?"

"Of course we will. We should call your mother to meet us."

"Don't bother. If you'll drop me off at my house after, I'll just show up with a cast or whatever and she'll nod—it's not important."

Eric grimaced but told Jacob, "Pull the Land Cruiser out and I'll carry her down."

Jacob was happy to have something to do that didn't involve medicine and rushed off.

Quinn glanced at Rachel, who looked like someone had just kicked her puppy to death. She reached for her hand, grasped it firmly and said, "Accident, Rachel. And my fault."

Rachel shook her head and rocked back and forth on her knees, "What did you want to say to me?"

Quinn shifted her position, winced with pain, then laughed as lightly as she could, "Nothing I can say in front of your Daddy. But it doesn't matter anyway. I ruined it a long time ago. I'm really sorry about that."

Eric felt his heart sink into his stomach with those words but not, evidently, as much as his daughter did.

"I'm desperately sorry I hurt you but you _will_ tell me what you wanted to say or you'll never have a minute's peace until you die, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn laughed through her pain. "Why do I somehow believe you?"

As Eric easily picked her up, he said, "You should. If you think they're bad when they want to talk, you should hear them when they want _you _to."

* * *

The ride to the hospital was quick and because Eric Berry was an admitting doctor there and something of a staff favorite, Quinn was whisked into a room as soon as she arrived.

As Eric and Rachel sat with Quinn, Eric called Judy Fabray, as he would have found it next to the end of the world if someone let his child sit in an emergency room without letting him know about it.

After assuring her that Quinn was in no immediate danger, the woman was pleasant and sounded distantly concerned. Very distantly. She thanked him and Eric for their help and asked for him to please let her know if Quinn needed transportation home.

Which made his blood boil at the woman and for the girl. _Transportation?_ How about comfort? How about love?

* * *

The x-ray was quick and diagnosis was done at lightning speed. A very young Dr. Adams raced in and slapped the x-ray on the light-box. "I hope you know, Ms. Fabray, that this is like the fast food of ER experiences because you're connected."

Quinn half-grinned, half-grimaced. "I appreciate that."

"Would you like some privacy for what I have to say?"

"Why?" Quinn shrugged at the presence of the three Berrys in the room. "The more, the merrier."

He pointed at the picture, "As Dr. Berry suspected, you have a fracture of the fifth metatarsal. And of course you have the considerable bruising of a soft tissue injury. We're going to give you a shot of pain-killer now to get you over this initial pain bump and then a couple of days of pain-killers, after which you'll take ibuprofen or Tylenol. We're sending you home with a soft and removable cast but I'm stressing to you that you _must_ wear it for eight weeks. The first two weeks you'll be using crutches. I understand from Dr. Berry that you're an athlete and a dancer. This is an injury you can easily recover from if you follow orders. I'll also set you up with a physical therapist appointment for week three to make sure you're ready to go when the cast comes off. Any questions?"

Quinn looked down at her foot as if it were her worst enemy and Rachel felt like she wanted to die because it was pretty much the look she'd been getting from Quinn for ten years.

"No questions. But pain medication sounds great. I appreciate your help."

"Oh—and paperwork. Admissions wondered if a parent would be available to sign off on your discharge."

"I'm a legally emancipated minor, Dr. Adams. I'm on my own." She waved at the Berrys, "Except for these nice people."

He had no idea how to reply to that, "I see. Hmm. Well…"

"Yes. You see and well, you're on your way to get me my pain meds. Thank you."

He blushed and fled the room. Quinn glared at the ceiling and Rachel said softly, "I'm so sorry, Quinn."

"I know that, Rachel, and I'm the Mayor of Simpleton."

"What?"

"Nothing. When we get out of this doghouse, if you don't mind taking me home, I'd appreciate it. I'll get Puck to grab my car later." She looked at them and said with no small bitterness and a very cynical smile, "It's great to have someone on the hook who knows they've done you wrong. You can work that guilt forever and ever. Word to the wise, Rachel."

The instant lowering of Rachel's eyes and the complete coldness in Quinn's told the Berry men they were meeting the girl their daughter had told them about.

No one said a word.

* * *

After the nurse gave Quinn a pain medication injection, it was only ten minutes before she slumped into her bed, feeling so physically and emotionally drained that she began to cry.

Rachel stood and tentatively ran her hand over Quinn's hair, "What's wrong? Is it still hurting? Daddy can make them give you something more."

Quinn shook her head, looking so completely desolate and childlike in the bed that Rachel wanted to climb in and hug her.

"Nobody cares about me, Rachel."

"That's not true."

Quinn's eye's showed the effects of the drug she'd been given. "That's completely true. You think I don't know at least one of your dads called my mom? Of course they did—they're _responsible_." She waved her arm, "So where is she?"

"Oh wait. Don't answer. Not here. Nobody cares about me except two men who probably want to half-kick my ass and a girl who'd rather break me than talk to me."

Rachel looked at the anguish in her face and said, "Daddy, Dad, if you don't mind, I think I need to speak to Quinn privately." They hastily left the room.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Quinn. And I'll be happy to talk to you. I was just scared."

"I know that, Rachel. You don't understand. I'm not talking about my foot. Yeah it sucks but who cares? It was a stupid accident that was half my fault. I'm talking about," she pounded her chest gently, "here. Here? I can't break you but you could break me so easily and that's why we should just say hi in the hall and I'll stop picking on you and everything will be all pie in the sky. We'll never ever have to really talk. Believe me, Fabrays specialize in that sort of relationship."

"But what if…" Rachel frowned and picked at the thin white blanket on Quinn's hospital bed, "What if I don't want that sort of relationship with you? You know me better than that. I was being a brat earlier this morning and moaning to daddy about how you didn't know me at all but they said something about your knowing my morning schedule as well as they did and I thought about that in the shower. I realized I don't like to admit it but you actually know me scarily well. I think I know you pretty well, too. But I guess I should go first in the whole vulnerability thing seeing as how I just broke your foot. I don't want just a cessation of hostility, Quinn. I want your friendship."

Quinn sighed, "But that would mean we'd have to really talk, Rachel."

"Sure does," Rachel said as she smiled and patted Quinn's arm, "Tell you what. Why don't you call your mom when we get out of here and tell her you're sleeping over at my house. That'll make me feel so much better. You'll have a doctor on call all night and we can talk. We'll watch any movie you want and you'll take great drugs and I'll take care of you."

Quinn's face was kind but her voice was sardonic, "Oh you think so? You really want me to sleep over?"

Rachel nodded and beamed, "Of course really."

"Even after I tell you I'm gay and I'm in love with you?"

Rachel's face fell in shock but she immediately rallied and said smartly. "O-_kay_! So we _really _have a lot to talk about on our sleepover!"

* * *

That was how Rachel Berry found herself on her way to sitting next to Quinn Fabray, who had a cast on her right foot and was fiddling with her phone. It had been decided. Quinn was sleeping over, they'd gotten her medicine and were waiting to pick up Thai food. Quinn fiddled with her iPod for a moment and handed Rachel the earbuds. Rachel put them in her ears, Quinn started the song and turned away from her, looking out at the parking lot.

_Never been near a university,_

_never took a paper or a learned degree,_

_and some of your friends think that's stupid of me,_

_but it's nothing that I care about._

_Well I don't know how to tell the weight of the sun,_

_and of mathematics well I want none,_

_and I may be the Mayor of Simpleton,_

_but I know one thing and that's I love you._

_When their logic grows cold and all thinking gets done,_

_you'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor of Simpleton._

The song went on and on and Rachel knew she was so in over her head and that this was going to be an interesting night.

* * *

**Song: Mayor of Simpleton, XTC**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

* * *

The take-out was taking longer than expected. As the song ended, Rachel handed Quinn's earbuds back to her. Quinn glanced at her and Rachel said, for her dads' benefit, "What a great song—so good I actually listened and didn't even think about how to transpose it for the different male members of Glee."

Quinn's eyes were huge and she tugged her lower lip between her teeth as Rachel mouthed the words, "It's okay."

The blonde nodded and, aware of their audience, cleared her throat and changed the subject, "Thank you, Jacob, for telling that white lie about how I hurt my foot. What my mother doesn't know won't hurt her."

The two men turned in their seats to look at the girls and Jacob said, "I didn't lie to shield Rachel from responsibility for this and naturally I don't know your mother at all. I just know _of _her from what happened last year and I thought if you and Rachel were trying to be more friendly toward each other perhaps your mother might be intolerant of my daughter once she knew she'd injured you. Even more so, I mean, than because she's Jewish and has mixed-race gay fathers."

Rachel hissed, "Dad!"

Quinn put a hand on the girl's forearm, "No Rach—he'd have been completely right last year. It was all about appearances. But my mother doesn't really have any strong convictions about gay or black or Jewish or whatever. She never cared about all that as much as my father made her. And this might sound disloyal to my family to air our dirty laundry but as you know from the hospital—and I've never told anyone else—they legally have no rights over me any more."

She looked out the window again for a few moments and then back to them, "No say in what I do but I do have to say that my mother _is _trying. I wasn't fair to her last night when I said she was a drunk. She's curtailed her drinking since she kicked my father out. She coped however she could I guess but I think she was so unhappy with him for so long that the whole 'your kids need emotional support' thing sort of passed her by and now she's still not getting it and maybe never will but I'll give her points for the effort."

Eric said, "That's kind of you, Quinn, but you never know."

"You're right. I don't and perhaps I'll never know, but it's nice to have a roof over my head where I'm not completely imposing on the family beneath it."

Eric's phone broke the heavy silence that followed that comment. "Finally! It's like they had to go out and slaughter innocent vegetables to make this stuff."

"Not funny, daddy."

"C'mon. A little funny?"

Rachel sniffed, Jacob smiled and Quinn shook her head no but her eyes said_ yes _and Eric laughed as he left the car.

* * *

As they exited the car, Jacob took the food, Rachel took Quinn's bag and her own and Eric shepherded Quinn toward the door on her crutches.

"Good job. You're rocking these crutches, Quinn."

As they entered the house, Rachel answered, "She should. She was on them for three weeks in fourth grade for a badly sprained ankle, six weeks in sixth grade for laproscopic knee surgery and what, six in seventh grade for the other knee?"

"I didn't know you were keeping count."

"Of course I was. You weren't as fast on crutches. Just as evil but not as fast."

Quinn laughed lightly, "Touché. Everyone knows cheerleading is the most dangerous sport in the world. The ankle was a dumb thing, like this foot," she said as they crossed into the kitchen, "The knees were too much stress training when I was going through my growth spurt with puberty."

Eric shook his head, "No disrespect but I would never, ever let Rachel do what you do."

"Risk _her_ like that?" Quinn smiled up at him, "I wouldn't either." Okay, she thought, _that_ was obvious. "And anyway, think about it. If you added the perfectionism of Sue Sylvester to Rachel Berry's, the universe would implode. And speaking of, I have to call that she-demon after we eat."

Jacob was already pulling out plates, silverware and glasses.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Quinn said, "Okay, Rachel. Time to confess. I'll have to say that this vegan pad Thai is just as good or better than what I'm used to ordering."

Rachel beamed, "And completely cruelty free."

"Except for the poor vegetables."

"I heard that, daddy. If you like, Quinn, you can come over in the future and my dad and I can make some Korean or Ethiopian meals I think you'd enjoy."

"I'd love that. I've heard you're both great cooks—as long as you're separated."

Rachel banged her fork on her plate, "Daddy!"

"Oh please," He pulled away from his fresh spring roll and said, "Am I wrong?"

Rachel reached for another spring roll, "If a certain party would deign to join us, we might stay…how shall it put it," and she frowned as she admitted, "On task."

Quinn looked at the three affectionately amused injured parties, "Okay. _I'll_ be the certain party. Game on!"

Rachel narrowed her eyes, "Are you making fun of me, Quinn Fabray?"

"Absolutely not. But am I making a teasing reference to your 'game on' from last night? Yes. Or maybe about the fact that's your 12th fresh spring roll. I'll add that, too."

"They have virtually no calories!"

"I didn't say they did, Rach, and it's no big deal but you're tiny and forgive the animal reference but it's like watching a baby anaconda."

She watched Rachel's eyes, saw her nostrils flare and knew it was so, _so _close…diva storm out or not?

Not.

Rachel placed the half-spring roll on her plate, "As you know, I threw up virtually everything I ate from dinner-time on yesterday. I've only had a smoothie today and it's already 4:45PM…" she stamped her foot audibly under the table, "And I'm hungry and _you're _sitting here and I'm anxious!"

The two men looked from one girl to the other.

Quinn didn't react for a long few moments but then she smiled at Rachel, a real smile, an incredibly sweet smile, and all three of them thought in that moment how weirdly and unbelievably unfair it was to be so angelically beautiful.

"Rachel, I could bet you I'm more anxious than you are and I promise I'd win. Teasing you is something I do to give me emotional distance and I know you must know this about me. But I _am _only teasing you. I'm not making fun of you, sweetheart, I promise."

The logic of what Quinn said was acknowledged in Rachel's brain but was completely eclipsed by the word sweetheart. She snorted but didn't answer, picked up the rest of her spring roll and stuffed it into her mouth.

* * *

When their meal was over, Quinn offered to help with the dishes, was refused and Rachel showed her to the family room so that she could make her calls.

She helped Quinn get adjusted on the couch, put a throw pillow under her leg and said, "I'll help dad and daddy—can I bring you something to drink?"

"No thank you, but," she tentatively grabbed Rachel's wrist. "I'm sorry this is so weird. It's weird for me, too."

Rachel immediately gently removed herself from Quinn's grasp, only to have the blonde pull her hand back sharply, whispering "I'm sorry."

Wrong message, Rachel thought. She couldn't think of anything else to do so she leaned forward and softly tousled the girl's hair. "Don't be sorry. We need to talk. And we will. Make your calls."

Quinn asked, "Sure you don't want to sit in on this one? Me and my loving coach?"

Rachel plopped down on the floor and motioned for her to continue.

Quinn took a deep breath as she held the speed dial button down.

"Hi. Yeah, it's Q. Sorry to bother you on a weekend but I know you like to be prepared for all eventualities so I wanted to let you know I had an accident on some stairs today and fractured my right foot."

Quinn held the phone out to the side as the coach screamed her answer.

Rachel couldn't understand a thing the woman was saying but evidently Quinn was well versed in Sylvester-speak and replied, "Eight weeks. And it was an accident."

More yelling.

"I know I should have planned better but the strange thing about accidents is that they're unforeseen which is one of the reasons they're called accidents."

More yelling.

"I know and I'm sorry about that but I can't change it. I'm in a cast for eight weeks. And Coach, I'm not calling to beg. I'm calling to inform you of my condition and, as I know you need healthy squad members giving 250%, to ask whether you want me to resign from the Cheerios."

More yelling.

"Well, okay. So should I call S and tell her she's in charge for the time being?"

Less yelling, but Quinn still held the phone away from her ear.

"Okay. Will do. And should I wear my uniform? I'll be in a cast and I'll be on crutches—so you see what I mean."

Quinn listened with the phone next to her ear this time, "I'm glad you see it that way. Thanks, Coach."

She punched the phone off and smirked at Rachel, "Long story short. Still a Cheerio. Santana's subbing. I'll wear the uniform because evidently the only thing scarier than Quinn Fabray is Quinn Fabray carrying long pointed wooden sticks the better to beat you with. She also added some graphic stuff about orifices but I don't think you need that audio/visual."

Rachel rubbed her face with her hands, "That woman is insane."

"Completely. Here, sit up on the couch and I'll put San on speaker." Rachel jumped up and sat at the end of the couch.

"Rach, before I call? You know she's going to be a tool about you."

Rachel shrugged, "Santana's frightens me physically but I don't pay any attention to what she says. She's a clown."

Quinn's expression hardened, "Absolutely in some ways, yes, but ultimately she's really not. Don't make the mistake with her she makes with you."

Rachel lowered her eyes.

Quinn speed dialed and Rachel heard that well-known voice, "_The fuck Q? This ignore S and B Saturday and no one told me?_"

"Well, I sorta had an accident and just got back from the hospital."

Rachel could hear true concern in Santana's voice, "_Wh—what—_how_—what's wrong? Where are you?_"

She could hear a soft voice in the background—it had to be Brittany's. "_It's Q—yeah—okay._"

Santana clearly shielded the phone with her hand to whisper, "_She knows something's wrong. I've gotta keep this pretty quick and explain it to Britts so she doesn't freak. Are you okay? What happened?"_

"I'm fine. Well—pretty much. I came over to check on Rachel and I slipped on her stairs, came down hard on my foot and fractured it."

"_See? That'll teach ya. You visit dwarves and weird shit goes down_."

"It was a stupid accident."

"_So what's the deal?" _

"Eight weeks in a cast."

"_No way! Mother_fuck_er!" _

"Way. Good news though? Look in the mirror and see the new head Cheerio."

"_Fuck me. She kicked you off for getting hurt?"_

"No. I'm not kicked off. Evidently she wants me to hobble through the halls in my uniform as some sort of cautionary tale."

Santana chuckled, "_Actually, no lie, Q, she has a point. You are a stone bitch when you're not feeling well. I look forward to it." _

"Tell Brittany I'm okay but that I don't have the kind of cast she can sign. She can put a duck sticker on it, though."

It took a moment before Santana replied, _"When you're sweet to me, it messes with my world view." _

"Right back atcha, but I was being sweet to Brittany."

_"Like there's a difference." _There was a slight pause with a muffled_—'I'm gonna check the mail, baby—I'll be back and tell you the big news—and everything's cool, okay?'_

A door slammed and Santana continued in a more normal tone_, "Okay. I'm outside. You need anything? I mean, I know your mom will probably try but…well, we could come over and getcha stuff or help you or something."_

"Thanks, San, but I'm good. I'm staying the night with Rachel and her dads. One of her dads is a doctor and I just had some good food and I have good drugs so I'm fine. Just wanted to let you know."

_"You know I'm leaving the whole habitating with the hobbit thing alone 'cause you're hurt, dontcha?"_

"And even though I'm hurt, I'll tell you this—Rachel's my friend, Santana. Off-limits to everyone or it's on."

There was a long pause and Santana's voice was clearly amused, silky and deep, _"Oh. My. God. Ruh roh." _

"Whatever. Go away."

_"You finally figured it out, huh?"_

"What?"

_"What's like obvious to anyone who has eyes? You've had this endless crazy hard-on for Berry because you _really_ have a hard-on for Berry."_

Rachel and Quinn looked at each other and both of them thought that it couldn't be possible for the other to blush more deeply.

"I don't know what—"

_"What you're talking about? Was that the end of that pointless sentence? Because seriously, Q, if you hired an airplane to write 'I'm gay for Berry' in the sky you couldn't be more obvious. Please. I mean, I've played along for years because it's fun to watch but what the hell? Fuck her already."_

Rachel looked behind her, sure that such a declaration would surely, with her recent luck, make her fathers instantly appear behind her.

The coast was blessedly clear but her cheeks were burning. She turned shocked eyes toward Quinn, whose paler face registered her blush more deeply than hers. Was that damned Lopez girl still on the phone and laughing? Yes, she was.

Quinn looked Rachel in the eyes and said to Santana, "What if I don't want to just…f..fuck her? What if I love her?"

Santana's voice was quiet, sad and soft, _"Oh damn, Q. I don't know, _carina_. You know that's not how I roll."_

In that moment, Rachel realized she was overhearing a conversation between two people who actually were true friends although she might never understand the connection.

"Yes you do, San."

They heard the phone obviously being pulled away from Santana's ear and a muffled, barely audible_,_ _"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."_

The phone was returned to position and they heard, _"This should be the happiest day of my life, Q. You're down to square zero on the squad and out and proud to me about a hobbit."_

"Yeah, I guess it should."

_"But you know what? It's not. Because I feel what you're sayin' and you know exactly why. I guess…I guess what I say is just go ahead and love her."_

"Really?"

"_How's pretending and dating other people working out for either of us?" _

"Pretty badly."

"_Right. But you know I'm talking you. I'm not saying anything about me and Britts—you know that right?"_

"I know—but you should think about it."

_"Like I think about anything else."_

"I know—and understood. Thanks, San."

"De nada_. And you know what?"_

_"_What?"

_"You know Berry's gonna have some color-coded Power Point thing telling you all the reasons you don't deserve her fine ass—and she'll be a little bit right about pretty much all of it."_

Rachel seemed both irritated and pleased by this sentence, which made Quinn grin at her.

"I'm sure that's true but more importantly, did you just call Rachel Berry fine?"

_"Maybe—who knows. Emotional shit makes me talk crazy sometimes. Get some rest—and call me if you need me. Hell, call me tomorrow no matter what."_

"Will do."

_"I love you and all that bullshit."_

"Love you too—tell Britts I love her."

_"On it. Kiss-kiss to the dwarf."_

"Fuck off."

"_There's my Q."_

"Night, S."

As Quinn punched her phone off, Rachel said, "That was 51 flavors of awkward."

"I know. I'm so sorry. Are you angry?"

"Not at all." Rachel stood and offered Quinn a hand. "Let's go upstairs and talk."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

As Quinn followed Rachel through the hall, she whispered, "Really, Rachel, I thought San would diss me about the whole cheerleading thing and being lame enough to break my foot. I had no idea that she'd go _there_ with the conversation."

Rachel turned but didn't stop walking, "I completely believe you, Quinn. We'll talk in my room. Do you need one of my dads to help you getting up the stairs?"

"I think I can manage."

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Maybe some water just in case?"

"I'll get two bottles." Rachel walked into the kitchen, where her fathers were chopping vegetables.

"What's this?"

"Your dad's cooking a late dinner tonight—a light stir-fry. You both could use another meal and Quinn definitely does because she needs another pain pill around nine. Just doing the prep so we can chill out for a bit."

"It's so disconcerting to see you chopping things, Daddy."

"And I've told you both a thousand times, a left-handed person is just as capable as a wrong-handed person."

Rachel wrinkled her nose at this as she watched him chop, then said, "Quinn and I are going upstairs to talk for a while. I can promise there won't be any further breaking of bones."

"Okay. Good luck with that and call us if you need anything."

Rachel grabbed two bottles of water and raced up the stairs, then galloped back empty-handed so she could follow Quinn on the stairs to offer her help if she needed it.

At the top, Quinn said, "Thanks for the spot but I'm pretty good with crutches."

"Well, I couldn't take another chance, could I?"

When they arrived in Rachel's bedroom, the girl said, "I think perhaps it would be best if you get on the bed, slide up and rest against the headboard. That way your leg will be elevated. I'll sit on the bed facing you so we can see each other."

Quinn nodded and Rachel arranged pillows against the headboard for Quinn to lean against and when she had, gently placed a pillow under the girl's injured leg. "Is that comfortable?"

When Quinn nodded, Rachel went to the end of the bed and crawled up until she was at the side of Quinn's waist, then sat Indian style facing her.

"Do you want to start, Quinn? Because I did rather rudely disrupt your desire to speak to me by breaking your foot."

"I would have but now the cat's out of the bag, so to speak, and somehow I'm sure you know what we both need to talk about and can tell me exactly how we should proceed."

"I'm not sure that's not a dig at me, Quinn."

"That's because it _is_ a dig, in addition to being a sincere acknowledgement of your superior multi-tasking and organizational skills."

Rachel gave her a look that was only semi-sour, "Fine. On the way home from the hospital, I thought we should proceed this way. We should speak of, in this order…" and Quinn wanted to kiss her because she actually did enumerate them and count them off on her fingers:

1. Apologies

2. Forgiveness

3. Our possible friendship

4. Our mutual physical attraction to each other

5. The possibility of romantic involvement

"Wow, you _were_ busy on the way home."

"Yes, I like to be prepared. So, the first item is apologies and I would like to go first."

"_You?_ Really?"

"Yes." Rachel nodded emphatically and some of the manic energy of explaining the plan faded and was replaced with a softness in her eyes. "I've apologized for many of the things I've done to you, Quinn, but I feel I should reiterate that I know I did one thing that had a devastating impact on your life when you were most vulnerable. I know that you forgave me then but I feel I should apologize again in the wake of seeing the full impact of my stupid and selfish decision on your life. I have also occasionally thought unkind thoughts about you and I apologize for them."

She placed a hand on Quinn's cast, "But I promise you that I have never wished for you to come to physical harm or even emotional harm. For whatever reason, it has always grieved me to see you hurting. Last of all, I'm ashamed that I so thoughtlessly injured you. When you were in X-ray, my Daddy reminded you that I could have easily hit you in the face with that door and possibly fractured your nose and cheek bones, not to mention have given you a concussion. I'm deeply sorry you were injured on my account."

Quinn patted the girl's hand, "It's nothing, Rachel. I got over the Puck/Finn thing long ago although I appreciate your telling me. You're completely forgiven about that and about kissing Finn and whatever you've imagined or have done to me, including fracturing my foot. My turn?"

"Yes, but would you mind my saying something about forgiveness so that you understand where you are with me a little better?"

"But I thought forgiveness was item two?"

"They're intertwined and I think you really need to know something."

"You're the boss."

Rachel grinned, "Keep that in mind." Her grin disappeared, "You remember when we were in sixth grade? When you really turned up the fire on your bullying?"

Quinn nodded, "Or let's say, with hindsight, at about the early onset of puberty?"

Rachel only tilted her head slightly to acknowledge that, "Thankfully, I didn't know at the time it could and actually would get exponentially worse. I was so miserable my parents sent me to a therapist."

Quinn looked down at her hands.

"He was actually a really wonderful man. We didn't have to go into all the stuff that happened in my childhood like adults do—because _hello,_ I _was_ a child. He found out that I was happy at home and happy with myself but I was being bullied relentlessly and it was increasingly making me feel like there had to be something exceptionally and obviously wrong with me that I didn't understand. We talked about it session after session and he finally told me I was a perfectly reasonable and well-adjusted child with a firm sense of self and that only children who weren't okay and weren't well-adjusted and didn't feel confident in themselves were doing this to me."

Quinn didn't meet Rachel's eyes but her lips were trembling.

"We decided to find some sort of meditation practice I could do at night to make myself feel better. And we brainstormed for a long time on a meditation that might help me and you might not believe what two Jewish people came up with."

"I don't think I could be surprised with anything you came up with, Rach."

"Let's test that. A Viking funeral."

Quinn blinked, "Okay. You're _right_. Color me surprised."

"I'll explain."

"And you'd have to."

"You see, Quinn, my therapist was right. I couldn't stop you or any of the other kids from picking on me because no one cared and it was always going to be the same the next day I went to school. So what I did every night was meditate—I'd imagine that I was alone on a dark moonlit ocean shore, with only a campfire to keep me company. Because my therapist told me to remember I might perhaps always be alone at school and until I was an adult and I had to face that. So I imagined myself with the wind whipping off the water into my face and a boat loaded with a pyre of kindling shoved into the sand very close to me on the beach."

"I meditated on sitting by that campfire and writing out every insult, verbal or physical, I'd gotten that day on a long scroll. If someone had thrown something on my clothes, I folded that piece of clothing and included it to place on the pyre. I placed the scrolls and my clothing on the pyre and took a torch from my fire and set it alight. I waded into the water and pushed it free with all my strength and watched as the tide took it away, watched it burn into nothingness and darkness and disappear."

Quinn's face was somber and she only touched Rachel's hand with her forefinger. "Did that help?"

Rachel didn't look up to face her, "Yes. It helped and it still helps. Nobody knows I do this but I've told you because I want you to know I've burned the weight of what you've done to me every night for years. _I'm _not carrying around some massive weight of grievance against you. I let go of it every night. It's good for me to let it go. I forgive but don't think I ever forget because I'm not stupid."

Quinn grabbed a throw pillow from the bed and hugged it to her chest for protection. "My turn?"

"If you want."

"I'll tell you what made me want to broach this subject, since we're getting our talking points a little out of whack."

"Fair enough."

When Quinn met Rachel's eyes, the smaller girl had never seen such raw sadness in them.

"I broke up with Sam last Sunday."

"I know. I was sorry to hear that."

"Really? Why? "

"Well, he's a nice guy and you seemed reasonably compatible."

"He's an uber nice-guy who looks like my brother or something."

"Which is not necessarily a reason not to like him."

"Admittedly. A reason not to like him was his texting _you_ when we were at the mall that Saturday."

Rachel gaped at Quinn, "You _have_ to be kidding! That was about sheet music we'd talked about in Glee and he mentioned he was going to the mall and could pick it up for me. He was just being nice."

"I didn't care, Rachel! He was texting _you_."

"That's completely unreasonable."

"Tell me something I don't know. I was furious and he was completely mystified. And I was mystified. So I called it an early night without even a goodnight kiss."

"I went up to my room and took a long, hot, angry shower because I wanted to punch your fucking lights out and thought about what more I could do to torture you. But when I got out of the shower and rubbed the fog off the mirror with a hand towel I saw I'd been crying without even knowing it."

Quinn wasn't looking at her but was gripping fistfuls of her sweatpants with both hands.

"Why were you crying, Quinn?"

"Why? Why _not_? Have you ever rubbed a mirror clear of fog and seen yourself in sharp focus and seen exactly what's wrong with you?"

"Sorry. Not following you."

"I didn't either. I put on my sleep shorts and a t-shirt and stared at the ceiling and thought. Couldn't sleep actually."

"But I thought about it nearly all night. Why did I hate Sam texting you, that fucking debacle with you and Finn or even you with Puckerman? Why did I hate anyone at all we'd ever gone to school with just because they paid attention to you? Who was the common denominator?"

She laughed bitterly, "If I didn't care about you at all, I should have just ignored you. But oh no. For years and years, I've gone out of my way, lots of times every day, to find you so I could say something mean to you and make my friends say mean things to you. And then troll your MySpace and Facebook pages after school if we couldn't get to you personally. That's a lot of effort, in case you don't know."

She looked at Rachel with the most bleak and sad expression the girl had ever seen. "I realized that night in bed you're the first person I think of in the morning and the last at night and what do you think it meant to me when I really considered the ramifications of that?"

Rachel had no idea what to say but "It couldn't have been comfortable."

"Comfortable? It was like being hit in the side of the head with a shovel."

When Rachel winced, Quinn amended, "I'm sorry. To me, to be honest, it really was a bit as hard and shocking as that but no. It was like finding some sort of key that turned a lock into a room that focused and explained my whole life. Now I know how I feel and you know how I feel but I want you to understand it_ was _a surprise to me. I would never have kept you hanging or hurting if I'd known how I'd felt." She took Rachel's hand. "I need to apologize now."

Rachel nodded.

Quinn began to cry and said, "I can't get down on a knee, Rach, for obvious reasons, but I can say I'm so sorry and ashamed for the way I've treated you. It would be one thing to bully just some random kid and that would've been reprehensible enough, but it's another and probably worse thing to bully a person you love. My only excuse is that I was a stupid and maladjusted girl when I met you and remained the same stupid and maladjusted young woman in my later actions toward you. So right now, I'm beside myself with guilt, shame and grief I completely deserve to feel."

Rachel ran her thumb over Quinn's palm. "Apology accepted. We'll start fresh. I forgive you but I'll never forget and that's something we'll have to talk about. But your guilt and grief are noted, appreciated and ultimately unnecessary."

Quinn raised her head and Rachel said, "And to be honest, I'll tell you why I feel more comfortable now. When we get into the whole friendship/romance thing, I'll be happy to have heard Santana's independent verification of your feelings."

They sat for a long while looking at each other and Rachel rocked back and forth, "Don't you want to be my friend, Quinn?"

"Absolutely." Quinn smiled sadly, "But I want to be more."

Rachel smiled back at her "No, baby. Maybe and only perhaps more. But definitely more talk."

Quinn nodded, "More talk."

* * *

A/N This is part one of two for this discussion.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

* * *

"Okay! I say we move to the friendship/physical attraction part of this conversation."

"You're the boss. You first."

Rachel grinned, "I love hearing that."

"That's a shocker."

Rachel tapped Quinn's knee, "Watch that mouth, baby."

"You know what? Finn and Puckerman and Sam have tried calling me baby or babe and they've always gotten an elbow in the ribs. But you say it and I just want you to say it again."

Rachel shrugged, "I guess I just got it like that."

"You certainly do."

Quinn watched Rachel's face change into serious!Rachel mode and she felt her stomach flutter.

"Alright Quinn. In less than 24 hours I've thrown up on you and broken your foot and you haven't batted an eyelash when usually if I'm only nominally near you in the hall at school, you find it offensive. That's why I said I was actually grateful to have heard what your best friend of sorts had to say about your feelings toward me. It helped quell my anxiety…well maybe just a bit, about your disclosure."

Quinn smiled, "That's Santana for you—a good deed every day."

Rachel rolled her eyes, "Let's talk about the sexuality of this situation. Obviously…"

"_Talk_? You realize this is a monologue, don't you? Not a dialogue. Since I'm not actually talking?"

Rachel stared at Quinn, who only looked fondly amused. She felt a sharp tug at her heart because she'd always wanted someone to play with and found she really liked it. "You'll have your turn, Ms. Fabray."

"Damn. Back to Fabray? Back in the doghouse."

"Yes, and back to the subject. Actually this is a serious one for you and for me."

"I'm sorry. I'm listening."

"You've identified yourself as gay to me. Is that how you really feel or are you just as Santana put it 'gay for Berry?'"

"I've liked boys. I've dated boys. I've even had sex with one boy. But I've never had romantic or sexual feelings for any of them. Ever. I have them for you. I notice other girls but I haven't had feelings for any of them because evidently my time's been taken up with you."

Rachel nodded. "In the interest of mutual disclosure, I know that I'm fully at least bisexual. I like boys and am generally sexually attracted to boys, at least in the abstract. But I can't say I've been actually sexually attracted to any boy I've kissed except perhaps, and I'm sorry, Noah."

"Okay. Just eww."

"If you remember I did preface that admission with an apology."

"No problem. He _is _a hot guy, if you're into that, and I'm not."

Rachel took a very deep breath, "I've been honest enough with myself to know I've been physically attracted to girls and specifically to you for years, Quinn. Let me quickly remind you that's not love. I think that's why all the Rupaul, manhands, treasure trail comments have stung me so badly."

Quinn frowned at this as Rachel continued, "I thought you could see it in my eyes or somehow sense it and you were disgusted and throwing it back in my face."

"Honestly, I think I was too busy projecting my own feelings onto you to do that but maybe you're a little bit right."

"So, that's that—an answer to one question I'm sure you had."

"Thank you."

"Now, about friendship."

"You're all over the map with your plan, Rachel."

"Thank you for the alert and I realize that. This is more complicated in action than I foresaw."

"It's not a criticism—you're doing great."

Rachel huffed, "Thank you again but do you realize you're fairly incapable of keeping quiet?"

"As you well know, I can be as silent and cold as an iceberg. It's just so tempting to talk to you now that we're actually _talking_ that I'm finding it hard to help myself."

"That's a very nice sentiment but as you said yourself I'm in a bit of a monologue here and you're throwing me farther off my plan."

Quinn lifted both hands in surrender.

"Would you agree that our tally so far is that we've apologized and forgiven each other for past misdeeds and thoughts, expressed an interest in forming a friendship and expressed a mutual physical attraction?"

Quinn nodded.

"Now you can speak."

"Yes, that sums it up."

"Good. You're going to have to listen to this next part very carefully and do me the courtesy of not throwing your emotional walls up immediately because some of this is undoubtedly going to be hard for you to hear."

Quinn swallowed hard and visibly and hugged the throw pillow on her chest.

"I'm very serious. Don't speak until I say you can. Will you honor the fact that you should listen and really try to _hear _what I have to say to you? I've forgiven you but I believe you owe me that. And I want you to look me in the eyes while I say this, okay?

Quinn nodded although her eyes were beginning to swim with tears.

Rachel paused at the sight before shaking her head and looking resolutely at the girl in front of her. "You might find it interesting to know that I consider you to be, outside my family, the most important person in my life. That's because we've been in an intense, long-term and extremely committed relationship for ten years. A relationship between a primary abuser and her primary victim."

Quinn's tears fell. Both she and Rachel ignored them.

"Even though I've never hated you and actually have always felt a distant sort of fondness for you, for whatever physical or emotionally masochistic reasons, that's been our only true relationship, Quinn. Abuser and victim. Now you want to change it. And God knows how much I've wanted to change it for so many years. How many times have I asked you? Do you know how frightening it was for me even to approach you? To actually speak to you without being spoken to? How every time my hands were cold and I was literally scared spitless and I still tried? Even and especially when you were pregnant and were getting your first taste of slushies. I thought surely _now_—but no. Every time I was shot down. Back to manhands. And now you know I knew I felt something for you so please imagine how _that_ felt."

Quinn's tears were running now and her nose was, too, but she continued to focus on Rachel.

Rachel looked at her for a long few moments, sat up, leaned over Quinn and pulled two tissues out of a box on her nightstand. She wiped Quinn's tears, then softly placed it over the girl's nose, "Blow."

Quinn complied, Rachel wiped her nose, then handed her the other tissue. She sat back in her original position.

"That said, of _course _I'll be friends with you. That's all I've ever wanted. You started the war. I would have gratefully—you can't imagine how gratefully—settled for peace. A peaceful coexistence but of course I would always have and still want more. So yes, emphatically yes to friendship. Okay?"

Quinn nodded.

"Now for the harder part and I'm sorry. I feel your sincerity when you say you have romantic feelings for me and I know I need to tell you how I feel. You really need to listen to all of this. Do you understand?"

Quinn dabbed at her eyes and nodded again.

"What I feel when I think about a friendship with you isn't happiness. I can't and won't get my hopes up to happy around you yet because that would just be stupid of me. I only feel relief. Someone who's been painfully twisting my arm just agreed to stop. I'm sorry to say that but it's truthfully how it feels for me."

She put her hand on the girl's cast, "My physical attraction notwithstanding, I have no romantic feelings for you, Quinn. None. When I look at you I feel that distant affection I've always felt and a sort of dazzled girl-crush feeling but crush describes it. When I see you, I feel the crush of the primary emotions I associate with you, which are anxiety, insecurity and fear. They don't add up to romance for me."

Quinn didn't speak but she was still crying without sound and began to lightly knock her head on the pillows behind her.

"What I need from you, Quinn, is consistency—I need a consistent friend. And I'm not saying by any means, given our physical and emotional feelings, if we develop a real friendship that it might not lead to more. I don't know if it will or won't but I'm not ruling it out. I'm saying yes to friendship, no to romance now but maybe to the future. A very, very firm maybe, which you need to understand means maybe yes or maybe no. We have to work on being friends. If you hit a person for ten years, and frankly sometimes I'd have preferred that, you don't just get to say 'sorry' and raise your arm and not expect the person to flinch. You created this reflex in me, Quinn. _You_ did it and if you want to be friends with me we'll have to work together to remove it."

Quinn nodded again, chose the moment to use her tissue on her nose but not her eyes, and continued to look at Rachel, who took her hand. "This will be a big adjustment for both of us, baby. We need to work on it and I'm completely willing to. Now I need to say one more very, very important thing to you, okay?"

Quinn squeezed her hand.

"I'm a very tactile…affectionate person. If you're my friend I want to be able to hug you or hold your hand watching a movie or even cuddle a little. I've never actually done it because I don't have friends and with boyfriends it leads to trouble but I imagine that's what I'd want to do. Is that something that you could tolerate with me, considering your deeper feelings?"

Quinn wiped her eyes and nodded vigorously.

Rachel smiled. "That's why I have to tell you something important, okay? And now you can talk."

Quinn jokingly opened her mouth three times as if testing her jaw, "Jesus—that was killing me."

"Be serious, because I'm really going to be vulnerable with you now, okay?"

The girl gripped Rachel's hand and said, "Absolutely. Anything, Rachel."

"I don't want to kiss you, Quinn. And I don't want to have sex with you. I'm telling you this because I would do both. It would be so easy for you to seduce me that it's not really funny to me. It's a little bit terrifying. So please understand you need to help me and keep us both out of any situation that might lend itself to sex."

Quinn really had nothing to say to that but, "O-_kay_?"

"Almost glib, Quinn, but not quite. I mean our relationship is so intense and so loaded with mixed messages we're both sending each other, you could kiss me now or put us in a situation where it'd be reasonable to kiss and in fifteen minutes I wouldn't be a virgin anymore. I know that about us. And what I'm saying is I'd do it and it would be completely consensual physically but it would be entirely non-consensual for me emotionally. I know you understand how important that difference is."

Rachel's eyes were soft, earnest and frightened.

"Of course I do, Rachel."

"I promise I'll verbally tell you if I'm ready for those activities. But until I say those words, please protect me, like you did last night, from you and mostly from myself."

"On my life, I promise. Friend hug?"

Rachel leaned forward and, as Quinn wrapped her arms around her, decided that life was decidedly looking up.

When she resumed her position and saw Quinn's swollen eyes, she asked, "Was I too mean to you?"

"No, sweetheart. You told me the truth and it hurt like hell but it was sort of good. You told me things I needed to hear and told me to take it without closing down and I did. It's nice to know I can take it because that was worse, actually, than when Dad kicked me out of the house. You kick like a mule, Berry."

"So I'm Berry now?"

"No. Only when I'm comparing you to a mule. Which I never would by the way except I just did. And when, exactly, do we get to this cuddling part?"

"Pig." Rachel said as she smiled at Quinn and left the bed with a wild airy relief…because everything was unbelievably okay and that made her feel like…like…_what_…like a hot air balloon lifting into the sky named Rachel Barbra Berry.

"We've both learned from the best," Quinn said as she lowered her voice, "Burn, baby mama," and she yawned as she said, "you're one hot Jew."

Rachel laughed as she stood by the bed, "You're better than Noah at that, just so you know. Now, I hate to break this party up but I think I should go do my punishment now, while I'm feeling happy. You can take a nap up here if you want. You've been traumatized, put on pain-killers and forced into deep discussions in a matter of hours."

Quinn ignored most of this, "What's the punishment?"

"Hand-washing our sweaters and towels from last night."

She yawned again. "Whoa. For gay men, they're pretty butch with the punishment."

"I know, right?"

"I can help.

"No you can't. Your leg needs rest and elevation."

Rachel pulled the pillows from behind Quinn's head and helped her adjust herself on the bed and placed pillow under her cast, then knelt by the bed.

"I'll promise you something I probably shouldn't, okay? "

Quinn nodded on her pillow.

"Until we figure out what we really are, I promise you I won't accept a date from anyone, okay? I don't want you to feel insecure about me. Until we understand what we are, I want you to know you're my main focus."

"Really?"

"Really—and you don't get to date anyone either. We have to work on this together, okay?"

"That sounds great," Quinn said as her eye began to lose focus. "So we're exclusively not-dating?"

"Yes. Now go to sleep"

Quinn pouted even as her eyes closed and she murmured, "You won't be with me."

"No, but I promise I'll come up after and take a little nap with you."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"But I'll be asleep and I won't know."

Rachel rocked a little in place before she said, "But you'll sleep knowing there's someone who will always come back to you and for you."

"Rachel."

"Sleep."

* * *

Rachel washed the sweaters and towels with the full sense of disgusted horror she knew her parents had intended. It was, she knew, not enough to put her off drinking for life but definitely enough to put her off drinking too much. And eating spinach dip and carrots for the time being, which was a shame because it was one of her favorite snacks.

She led her fathers into the laundry room to show them she'd done her best and asked, "Should I give them a wash? I've done my best and we'll see."

Jacob nodded, "Might as well try but no chance with your sweaters. The towels will come out okay I think."

"My thoughts exactly," she said as she loaded them into the washing machine and started it.

She finished and hugged both of her fathers, "I'm very sorry to have disappointed you."

"We're good, baby—just watch yourself with alcohol and no more slamming doors."

She grimaced, "I've learned my lesson, believe me. If you don't mind, I might go join Quinn in a nap. Making a fool of myself, throwing up on someone, having a hangover, fracturing her foot and having a long overdue conversation as tasks within 24 hours are quite enervating."

"Speaking of, how'd your conversation go?"

Rachel looked from her daddy to her dad, who seemed to be waiting for more of an answer than she could imagine they'd be asking. "We're going to work on being friends. That's the best I can accept at the moment. Would you wake us for dinner?"

"Will do," Eric said.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Again, this is AU and doesn't follow show canon. The song is ****_A You're Adorable_****, (Sid Lippman/Buddy Kaye/Fred Wise, 1948) **

* * *

When Rachel entered her bedroom, she found Quinn sleeping exactly as she'd left her, on her back with her cast elevated on a pillow. She moved to the foot of the bed and crawled forward, lengthening herself as far away from the girl as she could.

Quinn didn't open her eyes but whispered, "Is there an extra pillow?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I'm sort of an insomniac and when I'm not that, just a very light sleeper—extra pillow?"

Rachel handed it to her and Quinn placed it between them, murmuring, "We need a fence so you don't get buck-wild crazy and molest me."

Rachel grinned at the somnolent girl and said, "You wish but I'll hold your hand."

"I do wish but holding hands sounds better," Quinn said as she opened her eyes blearily, "Help me with my leg?"

She turned on her side toward Rachel and they adjusted the pillow under her cast.

Quinn closed her eyes again and put her hand on the pillow between them. Rachel took it, held it and looked down at their hands. Unbelievable.

"Quinn—"

"Shhh. Sleep."

"Okay."

Quinn half whispered, half sang,

_"A," you're adorable, "B," you're so beautiful,_

_"C," you're a cutie full of charms._

_"D," you're a darling and "E," you're exciting_

_And "F," you're a feather in my arms._

_"G," you look good to me, "H," you're so heavenly,_

_"I," you're the one I idolize._

_"J," we're like Jack and Jill, "K," you're so kissable,_

_"L," is the lovelight in your eyes._

_"M," "N," "O," "P," I could go on all day._

_"Q," "R," "S," "T," alphabetically speaking, you're OK._

_U," made my life complete, "V," means you're very sweet,_

_Double-"U" "X" "Y" "Zee."_

_It's fun to wander through the alphabet with you_

_To tell you what you mean to me._

The tension in Quinn's hand loosened and Rachel realized she'd fallen asleep. She lifted her head from her pillow and put it on the pillow between them, ran her thumb over the soft hand in hers and let sleep claim her as well.

* * *

Hours later, Eric knocked softly on the door and heard a soft "Come in," from Quinn. As he opened the door, she released Rachel's hand and clumsily shifted onto her back. Rachel didn't move and was softly snoring on the pillow beside her.

Quinn rubbed her eyes and blinked in the light filling the darkened room from the hall. "What time is it?"

"8:30, honey. Time to eat and get some pain medicine. How's the foot?"

She considered the question and whispered, "Throbbing a little."

"Yep. Time to get some meds on board. And you don't have to whisper. Rachel's like Jacob. They're either awake or asleep. She sleeps like a rock—like timber—but when you wake her, she's instantaneously the carbonated person you know."

She took that in. "Your husband's really like that too?"

"Yep."

"Wow. I'm so sorry about that. I mean, no diss meant or anything and I can totally believe it but in the morning? That's sort of horrible."

"Tell me about it. I like to ease into the day so I get up an hour earlier than them just to get enough coffee in to deal. But don't misunderstand. I wouldn't change them for the world." He grinned at her, "I adjust. You gotta understand. It's _their_ world, Quinn—we're just living in it."

Quinn gave him a dazzling smile before turning toward his daughter with a look of complete adoration. "She snores," she said, "Of course she does. She's getting her two cents in even in her sleep."

He reached over her, shook his daughter gently and spoke loudly, "Baby girl? Time to wake up."

She frowned and whispered, "Meat is murder!"

Quinn cut her eyes to Eric's and he said, "She's probably having a PETA protest dream. It happens."

"Jesus."

"Uh huh."

He spoke more loudly, "Rachel, we're having veal on the barbie unless you wake up."

To Quinn's astonishment, Rachel popped up, fully awake, "That's not funny, daddy. As you know, I consider the veal industry one of the most heinous, sadistic and—"

She suddenly noticed Quinn beside her, stopped abruptly and said with indignation, "You are not to listen to this evil man and ever wake me with such barbarous suggestions."

Quinn raised one eyebrow, "Should I say I'm holding a zucchini hostage?"

"If I weren't pinned in this bed by your presence…"

"I'm sorry, I'll get up and let you storm out."

"Quinn's hurting, baby girl. You both need to get up and eat."

"You're foot's hurting? Why didn't you say so?"

Quinn let this go with, "Time constraints, I suppose. But yes, my foot's throbbing and I want medicine."

Rachel leapt out of the end of the bed like she'd been shot out of a cannon. "Let's go!"

"Oh my God, please don't be chipper yet."

"I'm not chipper. I'm just awake."

Quinn shook her head and winced sharply as she sat up. "There's not a lot of difference, Rach."

Seeing this, Eric handed the girl her pill bottle and grabbed one of the bottles of water on the nightstand, "Go ahead and slam one. You can chase it with the stir-fry."

* * *

As they ate, the medication began to ease Quinn's pain so visibly that a watchful Eric was deciding she might need only half a pill the next time. They were nearing the end of the meal when Jacob said, "While you were sleeping, your quasi-friends Kurt and Mercedes called to ask whether they could come over together tonight to apologize to you, Rachel."

Rachel shot a glance between Quinn and her fathers, "Do they know Quinn's here?"

"Not from me. I told them you'd call them after your dinner and it might be as late as 930. They were both fine with that. They seem to have a burning need to get it over with, so to speak."

Quinn smirked at her plate as she speared a snow pea.

Rachel thought for a few seconds before replying, "In all fairness, I suppose I should let them. I certainly know that if I felt a great deal of remorse, I'd want to apologize as quickly as possible. Would that be amenable with you Dad, Daddy?"

"Anything you want, baby."

"Quinn?"

Quinn's body and voice were incredibly relaxed, "Your house, Rachel. Do what you want. Just be prepared for them to swallow their spit when they see me unless you want me to wait in another room. If you do, I won't be offended. Remember they might be just a teensy bit angry with me because I did sort of, kind of call their parents in the middle of the night and read them the riot act about what sacks of crap kids they'd raised."

She glanced at Eric and Jacob and said, "Excuse me. I know that was impolite to say at your table but I'm still a little heated about those two."

"We are, too, actually."

Rachel put her fork down, "While I appreciate your sentiments, the insult was done to me and it's up to me to listen and decide whether or not to forgive."

Quinn said, "That's where you're wrong. Your forgiveness? Yeah—_all_ you but the insult wasn't just to you. When I hurt you like six billion times, Rachel, I was always hurting your fathers, too. You weren't conscious for a lot of what went down between me and them last night but let's just say they're being wildly kind enough to give me a chance at redeeming myself with them and you. But when Mercedes and Kurt hurt you? They hurt your fathers and they hurt me, too, because you're my friend. That's what friends do. I got your back."

Rachel tilted her head, as if that concept had never occurred to her, "Really?"

"Seriously? I'm Quinn _Fabray_, Rachel. As Santana would put it, I get mines back. I put a flea in Burt Hummel's ear because I've met him and I knew he'd kick Kurt's tiny white porcelain posterior. And I've lived with Mercedes' mom and that woman doesn't play. Puckerman? I just blew his phone up all night so he'd be too distracted for his random hook-up and because he's totally Mr. Guilty with me, as he should be. Finn? Whatever. I ignored him because it would just be like talking to a tall loaf of white bread."

"Quinn, that's not exactly fair."

"So true. And I so don't exactly care. Finn's a cute, sweet but ultimately manipulative idiot. Mercedes and Kurt? I think they actually like you but they're so jealous of you it messes with their heads. Like it messed you up with Sunshine, right?"

Rachel's face fell and she glared at the girl, desperation in her eyes. "_Don't_."

Quinn nodded, "Won't. Look, I get it. You don't really trust me yet. Fine. Understood. I swear before God I'd drop on the ground and let you walk on me before I ever hurt you again but I can't promise to be completely domesticated with other people. That's not me. Plus I'm on drugs."

The Berry men were nonplussed by this conversation. This, again, was the Quinn they only knew from what Rachel had told them over the years. They both believed in her new sincerity and affection toward their daughter and even toward themselves but she wasn't, evidently, always necessarily all that nice. A point Rachel had made to them for a decade. They couldn't imagine the whiplash it must be inducing in both girls to re-adjust to their new roles.

"I don't mind your being in the room but I want you to attempt to restrain yourself."

Quinn laughed, "Anything for you, sweetheart."

Rachel blanched, "I'm serious."

Quinn was slumping a little farther into her seat, "So am I. What'd you say last night? Truth to power! You got it. It's on."

"This is going to be a disaster."

Quinn spritzed out a laugh. "I know right?" She grinned at the Berry men, "At our school, I'm like those one-word-title disaster movies. Earthquake! Volcano! Titanic! Quinn!"

Eric refreshed Quinn's glass of water and said, "Power slam some liquid and have another dinner roll, Quinn. That pain pill's hitting you a little hard."

"Is it?"

"Definitely."

"That's too bad because it feels pretty good." She took two very long sips of water, stuffed a piece of dinner roll in her mouth and spoke around her chewing, "Okay, Rach. Call the repentant sinners and they can have their whole 'come to Jesus' with you or, sorry, confession or whatever you guys do. Do rabbis stage psycho-spiritual beat-downs like at my church?

"No, Quinn."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Don't look so serious. I know I'm loopy but I'm sort of also yanking your chain a little."

"Consider it yanked." At the look in Quinn's eyes, Rachel added, "May I remind you that we're in the presence of my fathers and the sexual innuendo you're about to make would be highly inappropriate."

Quinn put a hand to her chest in mock outrage, "You _shock _me, Rachel Berry."

"Oh my God."

"Again? Simmer down, Frodo," Quinn said, "Make your calls and if you don't mind, I'll excuse myself and hobble to the bathroom."

* * *

Jacob grabbed her crutches and helped out of the room and down the hall, "Obviously I can't help you in there, but I'll wait outside for you."

Her face dropped and her voice changed. "That's nice but you don't have to. I don't like getting used to anyone older helping me because nobody ever really has."

"That's their fault. It's not yours."

He was dismayed by the bleak look on the girl's face as she said, "I'm a _bitch_, Jacob. To repeat? I deserve exactly what I've gotten, and as brutally as I've gotten it and it's been one hell of a picnic believe me. But isn't that fun? When you suffer and know you deserve to?"

"You _are _a bitch, Quinn. I can see that. But that's not all you are. I see that, too."

He gave her a gentle pat on her shoulder, "We're not fools but Rachel and I do trust too easily and forgive too quickly. Eric and I spoke about you briefly while you were napping and I know that you two talked last night. He wouldn't share any of the details but I can see that he likes you and trusts you. Believe me when I say he trusts nearly no one with Rachel or with me and almost never forgives if someone hurts us. If Eric has your back, I have your back and I believe I'm beginning to see why."

She stared into his kind brown eyes and then looked down at the floor. "I love her, Jacob."

"Yes. I can see that."

"Don't worry about her. She doesn't love me."

"She likes you. That may be a start."

"I guess."

"Baby steps, Quinn. Like to the toilet?"

She smiled at him.

As she closed the door to the bathroom he rested his head on the wall. His beautiful Eric was downstairs taking care of their beautiful daughter and this beautiful stranger was in their house. A mean, sweet, gentle, harsh, desperately sad and haunted stranger.

Which might not turn out all that badly. Who knew. Life had always given him stranger twists and turns than he'd ever imagined.

He smiled at the wall.

* * *

Rachel called Kurt, who assured her, with relief in his voice, that he and Mercedes were together and could be there in 30 minutes.

Rachel knew her Daddy very well and she could feel cold doom approaching as they were clearing the table. He finally said, "So, what's with this Sunshine?"

Her heart fell because she never lied to her fathers and it had been rather—no outrageously ignominious of her and she wanted to strangle Quinn for saying something except she really didn't because it was only true.

After she told him what had happened, he loomed over her and she'd never in her life seen him actually angry with her and he rarely cursed in her presence. "You're seriously telling me you sent a teen girl of color to a crack house, and yeah, you know what? That counts extra hit points for cracked up fuckheads who think it's just a little more okay to hurt a girl who's not white, don't you? And she's even smaller than you and you sent her to a crack house instead of an audition because you were jealous of her voice?"

She looked up at him hopefully, "Well, it was a disused crack house but if you strictly want to put it like that? Yes."

He shook his head. "Disused? Girl, I grew up in New York. They're active or slightly inactive. If they exist at all, they're next to never disused. I would have never thought I'd live to say this but I'm ashamed of you. Utterly ashamed of you. I can't even imagine what your Dad's going to think. When Kurt and Mercedes come here, realize you're in exactly the same boat they are. And you deserve it. Please don't think even though time's gone by you're not going to Sunshine's house and apologizing to her because that's _so_ what's happening."

Rachel could cry on command but her father could see her tears were real, "I'm so sorry, Daddy."

"You don't have to apologize to me. You didn't potentially expose _me_ to rape or homicide, Rachel, and that's way worse than what Kurt and Mercedes did with you. They ignored you. You _exposed her_ to obvious and true potential physical harm. Do you think we need to schedule some more therapy with Dr. Bloomfield? That's so out of character for you I don't even know what to say."

She looked at him and whispered, "No."

"Rachel. Baby. Look at me. I love you with my whole heart but you exposed a girl to physical danger out of jealousy."

Rachel squeezed her eyes tightly, and tears ran down her cheeks. She looked up at him, "I knew as soon as I'd done it how crazy and wrong it was. But I feel sometimes like I don't have anything at all—nothing. Nothing but my voice, Daddy."

He looked down at her and saw her shame, anguish and guilt. And realized, yet again, she was a young adult but still a child. He wiped the tears from her cheeks, "You have yourself first, angel. And you are _not_ only your voice. Your voice is a gift but only the first of many. You always need to remember that. You will always have me and Dad. And I think you have a really good friend who's going to help you. I suspect your life is going to be exactly how you've always imagined it. But you might have co-stars you never imagined."

"So you still love me?"

"Is that an actual question?" He cupped his daughter's cheek. "You're the one answer to every question I've ever had about life. Why do I exist? What's the meaning of life? You know, all that metaphysical stuff? One word answer? Rachel."

She buried her head in his chest and he hugged her.

* * *

When Jacob and Quinn returned to the kitchen, they both saw something had happened but were warned off with their eyes and everyone kept the conversation light.

Mercedes and Kurt showed up at 9:30 on the dot. They both knew that three Berrys would be a lot to deal with but Rachel's face was nothing but pleasant.

"Thank you for coming, Mercedes, Kurt. I very much appreciate it."

Mercedes thought 'very Berry' but said, "Kurt and I are thankful you'll hear our apologies for our mess-up last night. And we're glad your dads are with you because our parents were really strong about apologizing to them, too. Can we come in?"

"Of course." Rachel smiled, "Why don't we go into the den?"

Kurt and Mercedes followed the Berrys into their den and found Quinn sitting with her foot propped up on an ottoman.

Quinn smiled at them in the coldest way the Berry men could imagine and watched the blood disappear from Mercedes and Kurt's faces. Her voice was icy, "Hello, ladies. As Ke$ha might say, 'Now the party don't start till I walk in.' Or not, as you see the case may be."

Kurt said. "Mercedes, please tell me we're sharing some sort of mutual hallucination."

Mercedes shook her head. "Oh no. It's real."

Quinn smiled. "Oh no, it's on."


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: It's Not Like I Wanted This to Happen**

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Again, this is AU and doesn't follow show canon. Thank you all for so very much for reading and for your reviews. **

**OOOOO**

Mercedes rallied quickly and because she actually did consider Quinn a 'sort of' friend moved quickly to the couch, sat right next to her and asked, "For sure it's like finding a genie in a bottle you being at Rachel's house and all but whatever. What'd you do to that leg?"

Everyone else in the room exhaled. Tension relief.

"I slipped and fractured my foot walking down the stairs."

"Oh my God, girl," She touched Quinn's cast, "That must have hurt."

"It felt exactly like," she made a motion with her hands as if she were breaking a stick, "breaking my foot. But I'm on drugs so that helps." She motioned at the rest of the people in the room, "Thanks for your concern but we're getting off track."

"We are." Mercedes agreed as she stood, "Mr. Berry, Mr. Berry? Rachel? When Quinn called my momma and his daddy and told them how badly we behaved last night? That was hard and that stung and still stings but we gotta be real and tell you where we coming from. Just hearing Quinn at the party last night—about how angry she was at us and how we should be helping you, Rachel?"

Rachel nodded.

"I know I can speak for Kurt about this because we talked about it before we came over. So Quinn was coming down super harsh on us but what was new or different about that? Whatever. In one ear and out the other, right?"

Quinn grimaced, pressing her lips into a thin white line, which Rachel noticed.

"Yes," Kurt added, "It's very true. I'm sure you understand as well as anyone, Rachel, that when people berate you constantly, you tend to hear the sound but ignore the words."

Eric and Jacob immediately and anxiously glanced at their daughter because they knew her and, yes, this was going over badly. _Very _badly.

Her voice was low and even, "On the contrary, Kurt. I always hear the words because I, unlike you, actually listen when people speak to me no matter what they're saying. I actually want to understand them or their points of view, a graciousness you and Mercedes next to never extend to me, by the way."

Mercedes and Kurt gaped at her. This wasn't diva storm out 'not getting my way' Rachel—this was a truly angry girl who wasn't walking out of the room.

"And please don't insult me any further than you have nearly daily for years by thinking for even one moment you can walk into my home to out-victim me because I think we all know I'm the winner in that contest. You're not even a contender, Mercedes. And Kurt? Only homophobes hate you. _Everyone_ hates me."

Her eyes narrowed, "I really don't like where this seems to be going. You're not going to stand here and blame Quinn for anything that happened or didn't last night. If that's what you're here to do, you can just leave. I promise you that neither my fathers nor I will tolerate your denigrating Quinn for your bad behavior."

Jacob added, "My daughter is right. Quinn is a welcome guest in our home but you are being tolerated. Leave Quinn out of whatever you came to say."

Eric, who was the largest and obviously most physically imposing person in the room moved forward a step and stared down at Mercedes and Kurt, "My daughter, my husband and I are all on the same page. Quinn's off limits. And let me explain something maybe you never got the memo about? An apology that comes with conditions is not an apology. Start from there—if you want to. If you don't, leave."

Quinn couldn't quite believe her ears or eyes. The faces of the Berrys were determined and serious. Kurt and Mercedes looked shocked and even a little frightened. She thought her face might look exactly the same way. No one had ever, ever taken up for her or defended her so resolutely in her life. She swallowed hard and forced tears not to form in her eyes.

Mercedes held up both hands and said, "You're right. I'm sorry. You're all exactly right. I started off defending _us_ and that's my bad. But I'm telling you it hurt what our parents said to us. What we wanted to say was we weren't listening to Quinn. We didn't think it was all that big a deal and it was all teen party stuff and Quinn was just being her and who cared? But when my momma talked to me and I really thought, _really_ thought about what Quinn went through last year?" She looked at the girl on the couch, "Please excuse me?"

Quinn shrugged.

"That was at least a boy we know and someone we all know would never force you. But my momma reminded me that Rachel didn't know those boys, nobody really knew those boys and we didn't have any idea what might have happened and then…"

She dropped her gaze to the floor for a moment but looked back up at Rachel, "and then she asked me whether you would have helped me, whether you'd have left me." She shook her head and wiped her eyes, "That's what stung me the worst because my only answer was what I know is the truth, 'absolutely you'd have helped me and no, you'd never have left me.'"

Kurt added softly, "Rachel, my father reminded me of many of the same things, except slightly more harshly worded because he's a man. And hearing what Mercedes has said reminds me that I, too, know that you would always come to my defense."

He looked down into her eyes, "I have literally no doubt that as even as small as you are, you would try to defend both me and Mercedes even physically if it ever came to that. Even when we have never been as nice to you as you deserve. We're all divas, Rachel, and it's never fun to meet someone better than you are, both as a singer and as a person but Mercedes and I _are_ deeply sorry and we hope you and your parents will forgive us. And the whole better singer thing? If you repeat that I don't know what I'll do. It may not be entirely pretty."

Rachel grinned at Kurt and hugged him, threw herself into Mercedes' arms for a tight hug, then said, "That's enough for me and that's certainly a relief, isn't it, dads?"

They both smiled and Eric said, "Yep. All good. Who wants ice cream?" There was a general halting consensus of yes because Mercedes and Kurt were both consternated and relieved that it was, after all, just that easy. Sincere apology. Hugs. Forgiveness. Ice cream!

Jacob and Eric left the room to serve and Rachel plopped down next to Quinn as if no one else were in the room. She whispered loudly, "That was really great, don't you think?"

Quinn grinned and whispered, "Personally, I would have held out for a cash payment and a couple of pints of blood but for you? Yes. That was perfect."

Rachel beamed, "I must say that I felt very feisty for a few moments. It was terrifically invigorating."

"You _were _feisty, sweetheart. I was wildly impressed."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Not a bit."

Kurt and Mercedes looked at the two girls, then at each other, then back at the two girls.

Kurt said, "I think it's only fair to point out that we're all in the same room and we can completely hear what you're saying to each other."

The two girls looked at them, Rachel grinning, Quinn smirking.

Mercedes lifted one hand and said, "This is not even a $64,000 question. It's sort of a question for the ages and I'm sure Kurt will agree. Quinn, I ain't hatin' but what in the hell are you doing on Rachel Berry's couch and why are you calling her sweetheart?"

Rachel bounced up and answered brightly, "Quinn and I are exploring the parameters of becoming BFFs. I should help my fathers. I suppose no one else wants to indulge in my dairy-free ice cream?"

Quinn shook her head fondly at Rachel's BFF answer but answered the question, "I do."

"Are you sure? You don't have to."

Quinn looked up at the girl and said silkily, "I don't have to do a lot of things. But I want what you want."

Rachel blushed, nodded and left the room as Kurt said to Mercedes, "That's what she said."

"I heard that, Kurt."

"I know you did, Quinn," he said, hesitating before he ventured a question, "And I heard Rachel's answer to what she thinks you're doing with her. What are you really doing?"

Mercedes' eyes widened at that. That was hitting a way wrong note and, sure enough, Quinn's fixed gaze at the boy turned nearly reptilian, "Are you suggesting that I might have ulterior motives toward Rachel?"

He shifted in place under her scrutiny but lifted his chin, "Honestly? You can't possibly fault me for wondering that, can you?"

"See Kurt, that's where you don't understand me. I can and do fault you, although I'll allow you might have cause to wonder. I've made my motivations toward Rachel completely clear to her and to her fathers. We're all on the same page but sadly enough for you two gossip whores, it's not a page in a magazine you can buy for a few bucks on the last chance impulse grocery rack. So you can think what you will and say what you want to each other. But we all know you should keep your thoughts strictly between yourselves."

She looked from one to the other, "I'm really going to try to ease up at school, for Rachel's sake. I don't necessarily care about me because God knows I can handle myself but if you cause her problems, I'm going to be displeased. As in a 'you just called Brittany stupid in front of Santana' level of displeased. Do we understand each other?"

Mercedes answered for Kurt, "Totally."

Quinn smiled at her, "Somehow, I knew you would."

**OOOOO**

Mercedes and Kurt were surprised to find that, after all that quiet drama, eating ice cream with the Berrys and an eerily quiet Quinn wasn't as frightening or as weird as they thought it'd be. The Berry men were witty, interesting and interested in them and seemed to know quite a lot about them as singers and performers. They knew the men had watched New Directions perform but the level of detail they had about their individual tastes and strengths they could only attribute to Rachel, which was surprising, flattering and a bit humbling.

As they finished their ice cream, Eric said, "I don't know about you guys and whether you can stay out so late but I'm still hungry and I'm feeling up to some popcorn and a little Dawn of the Dead 2004 action."

Quinn smacked the table and said, "_Hell_ y_es_!"

"_Are you kidding me?"_ Mercedes laughed. "I am _so_ down. Callin' my momma right now."

Jacob, Rachel and Kurt looked at each other with varying degrees of dismay. Rachel said, "Kurt, I can see by your face that you realize there are zombies involved. My father and I have never watched it but it seems we're at an impasse. 3-3. Should we brave it?"

He squared his shoulders, "I don't see why not. I've watched Finn dance and heard Mike sing. How much worse can zombies be?"

Quinn laughed until Rachel looked at her sternly. "Oh, c'mon, Rach. You can't say that wasn't funny."

OOOOO

Eric and Jacob took the love seat. Mercedes and Kurt sat next to each other on the long sectional couch. Rachel helped Quinn prop her leg up on an ottoman and sat next to her.

Five minutes in, Jacob had semi-buried his head in Eric's shoulder, Kurt was watching through the cracks between his fingers in both hands he'd clapped over his eyes and Rachel whispered to Quinn, "I don't think I'll live through this."

She whispered back, "C'mere. Of course you will." She wrapped an arm around Rachel and placed one hand over one of the girl's eyes, then blocked the other eye with her free hand. "I'll help."

And she did. All through the movie, she allowed Rachel to view reasonable scenes unimpeded, slightly blocked the tense ones through cracks between her fingers and blocked her vision entirely for the real gore. Rachel decided very quickly into the experience that it was a highly satisfactory system, for many reasons, not the least of which were Quinn's body so close to hers, an arm around her shoulder and the girl's soft hands on her face.

At one point, however, Rachel spoke up. "May we pause please?"

Eric paused the DVD.

"What part of escaping from an entrenched camp surround by zombies in the most fortified vehicle one can cobble together lends itself to imagining that using a chainsaw inside said vehicle is even remotely reasonable?"

They all looked at her with raised eyebrows.

Kurt, who's face was more pale than she'd ever seen it, said, "Well, my first off-the-cuff, mad-cap and zany answer? Zombies? Realism much?"

"Just word," Mercedes agreed.

"And Rachel, sweetie? You accept the fact that people burst into song in movies all the time and that doesn't seem a little weird to you?"

"That's not the same thing, Quinn."

"It's weird and illogical."

"One suspends disbelief for the magic of song."

"And one suspends disbelief for the magic of horror."

Rachel sniffed, "Press play. Cover my eyes Quinn—a chainsaw in a moving vehicle rocked by hordes of zombies? Limbs will be lost. I'm no fool and if you think I'd put up with such a plan you're talking to the wrong girl."

"Rach, you can't just sing zombies away."

"Well, I mean maybe Rachel—"

"Do _not_ finish that sentence Mercedes," Kurt said quickly. "Let's watch. I'm obviously dying to see who's dying next."

Rachel was sort of right about the chainsaw and noisily demanded Quinn admit it because the girl didn't let her see it. They all made it through to the end but Eric made them watch through the credits to the 'real' ending.'

Mercedes laughed and said, "Just damn—I always cut it off before that part. Sucked to be them."

Jacob, Kurt and Rachel looked at Eric, Quinn and Mercedes, who seemed weirdly jubilant.

Jacob said, "I can't believe you people watch this stuff willingly."

"Why? It's fun. It's like a roller coaster,' Quinn said.

"Completely. Weirdly cathartic," Eric agreed.

"Absolutely," Mercedes nodded.

"Perhaps," Rachel shrugged. "It just seemed like a day at high school to me. Except of course with more blood."

"Exactly," Kurt agreed.

"Yep." Jacob nodded.

Rachel stood and said, "Not that I meant that to be what I believe is termed a buzz kill."

OOOOO

It wasn't. It was weird and sobering but everyone felt on good terms when they walked Mercedes and Kurt to the door.

"Thank you again for coming. I'm glad we were able to clear the air."

"We're glad you were willing to listen. Thank you."

Rachel smiled and Quinn put her hand on the girl's shoulder as she tilted her head at the duo and said cheerfully although they could see the warning in her eyes, "We look forward to seeing you on Monday."

They said good night and as the door closed, Kurt could barely conceal his enthrallment, "This is completely epic and we both know why."

She threw her head back and said, "YES! Your house or mine?"

"Totally yours. We can't have Finn listening in."

"You got it."

They didn't know Quinn was watching them walk down the lighted pathway. From the front window, she'd only slightly moved the curtain aside so she could see. She said to Rachel and her parents, "Typical. They look as giddy as two drunken leprechauns."

Rachel shrugged, "What's the worst they could say?"

Quinn sighed, "Oh I don't know. Yesterday we weren't friends. Now we're cuddled up on your couch, my foot is broken and you're taking care of me, I'm on drugs and they know I'm spending the night with you. What's the most interesting spin they could put on _that_?"

Jacob and Eric felt like they were a little in the way but didn't see a subtle way to leave the room.

Rachel thought about it for only a moment, "That we're lovers, I suppose. Although it isn't true, it's hardly offensive to be linked to someone as intelligent and beautiful as you are. Why?" She tilted her head, "Would it offend you to be linked to me in that way?"

"Hell no!" Quinn ducked her head, "Sorry, Jacob, Eric. I just don't want you to be embarrassed, Rachel."

"I'm not and won't be and I don't think they'll say anything at school if your glaring at them is any indication of what you said to them when we weren't in the room."

Quinn shrugged, "I may have very gently suggested that they use a modicum of discretion at school."

Rachel sighed.

"And I might have invoked…Santana just a little."

"Oh, Quinn."

"What? Was that wrong?"

"No." Rachel put her hand on the girl's arm. "You're protective and I appreciate it but we know who we are so what other people think or say really doesn't matter to me if it doesn't to you. So how about this? Let's talk about it tomorrow and let's go to bed." She looked from Quinn to her parents and back, "And in this context that sounded a little _something_—but we're both tired and we need to rest, okay?"

"Okay."

Eric said, "You like to sleep warm or chill, Quinn?"

"What?"

"What do you usually wear to bed?"

"Sleeping shorts but I'm a little chilly tonight so maybe sweats."

"That's normal. The meds are dropping your blood pressure a little."

Jacob said, "I'll get you a pair of my track pants with the zippered legs—nothing Rachel has would be long enough for you and that way you can get them over the cast. I'll get you a sweatshirt too."

**OOOOO**

After they'd all said their goodnights, ten minutes later, Quinn was wearing a very comfortable pair of track pants that were only a little too long for her and was still chuckling over the blue sweatshirt emblazoned with the white logo Team Berry that Jacob had given her to wear.

She'd pulled back her hair, taken her make-up off, maneuvered out of the bathroom on her crutches and sat on Rachel's desk chair, waiting for the girl to finish her nightly regimen. It took so long that Quinn couldn't believe that such a small person might have so much to do and that maybe she'd come out looking like someone she'd never seen.

And she did. Sort of. She was fresh-faced, makeup-free and was wearing a pink onesie with yellow cartoon kittens on it. Quinn stared. And blinked.

Rachel looked down at herself and blushed. "It has detachable feet but they're usually too warm so I don't wear them and…well…you see. Yes."

"Rachel, I…uh…."

Rachel's face was scarlet and her lower lip protruded a bit in a pout. "Feel free to make fun, Quinn, but it's very comfortable."

"I don't think you understand. What I was going to say was if wearing that was your idea of a lust-killer for someone who's sexually attracted to you, that was a massively epic fail on your part."

"Really?"

"Really. Like _seriously_."

Rachel looked at her, seemed to gauge the truthfulness in her eyes, and said, "That's remarkably perverse on your part."

"I agree. Your point?"

"Does that mean I can't hug you goodnight?"

"No. I think I can manage that but pillows between us in bed."

"Deal."

Quinn stood and Rachel hugged her. It was a different hug than the smaller girl had ever experienced, a full body hug she forced herself to relax into. She felt Quinn relax into her, as well, and she couldn't believe how electric and overwhelming it was. She pulled her tighter and Quinn ran her hands over her back as they held each for perhaps a minute. And then Rachel felt a kiss on the side of her head, "That's enough for us, sweetheart."

"Really?"

"Yep. But do me a favor?" She took a seat on the bed.

"What's that?"

"Let's take a couple of pictures together. Everyone needs a memento of their first night sleeping with a head cheerleader."

Rachel rolled her eyes but took her place next to the girl and because Quinn's arms were longer, she took the pictures.

The first was a relatively goofy picture of both of them smiling into the camera.

The second was a radiant Rachel smiling into the camera. Quinn was kissing her cheek.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: It's Not Like I Wanted This to Happen**

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Again, this is AU and doesn't follow show canon, and that includes houses and bedroom or bathrooms (lol). **

**This is **_**not **_**a filler chapter but it's a bit more of a serious chapter for character/narrative development.**

**Thank you all for so very much for reading and for your reviews. I actually stand at the intersection of Internet Ave. and Dr. holding a cardboard sign reading, "Will write for reviews." It's sad, tbh. **

OOOOO

Sometime in the night, Quinn awoke to a definite movement beside her. Rachel had left a nightlight on in her bathroom and the door cracked so that Quinn wouldn't be disoriented in the strange room if she woke. She could see it was Rachel moving, a Rachel who was obviously asleep, yet frowning. Quinn watched as the girl ran her hand over the pillow between them, frowned more deeply, then rather languidly grasped the offending item and clumsily half-threw it behind her. Then she scooted closer to Quinn and rolled over, leaving her back firmly pressed against Quinn's body. The blonde girl was glad she had the presence of mind to jerk her head back quickly even as Rachel decided to share part of Quinn's pillow or that would have been another collision for the day. The small girl smacked her lips as if tasting something delicious, and within seconds began to snore.

Quinn grinned, gently kissed the back of her head and wrote the headline in her mind, 'Illegal border crossing by little spoon.'

OOOOO

When Rachel woke up the next morning, she was startled to realize she was certainly not where she'd been when she'd gone to sleep. She raised her head and looked behind her. Quinn was in exactly the same position. Her head fell back on the pillow as she flushed with embarrassment. What a terrible, crafty and naughty subconscious she had! Quinn murmured behind her, "Stop worrying about it so loudly."

"But I made all these rules and the first thing I do—"

"Shh. Inside morning voice, please. I ease into my day. I don't trampoline into it."

Rachel whispered, "I'm sorry if this made you uncomfortable."

"And yet you haven't moved."

Quinn firmly held Rachel in place as the girl tried to scramble away. "I'm teasing you. It's no big deal. It was sweet and completely comfy. Nothing more. Promise."

Rachel relaxed but Quinn kept her arm around the girl. She spoke quietly, "If we really need a barrier sometime, Rachel, I'd suggest I sleep in the guest bedroom. Otherwise, why don't we just skip the pretense and admit we like to cuddle. I'll make sure it doesn't turn into anything more."

"That's probably best," Rachel said as she played with Quinn's hand for a moment, wiggling the fingers about. "I've never woken up like this before."

"You've never had a sleepover before?"

"Well, with Tina a few times and then Kurt and Mercedes a couple of times but I mean waking up with someone holding me."

"I'm lucky to be the first then. But I'll warn you if you and Brittany ever have a sleepover, you can sleep in separate parts of the house and you'll still wake up as B's little spoon. It's happened to me tons of times."

"I doubt that will happen."

"I don't know about that. Now that I'm your friend, Brittany's going to be all over you. We've had to restrain her for years because you're like cuddle 'patient zero' for her."

"Why?"

"She thinks you're really cute."

Rachel remembered Brittany's text and tensed, "Oh my God—in what way? Is Santana going to kill me?"

"She's always thought you're cute because you're so tiny and also because you're…well, cute. But she does also think you're hot and yeah, that goes over about the way you'd think it would with S but she'll tolerate it. She will or I'll make her. No worries."

"Easy for you to say."

"True. It takes a bit of work but I'll do it. As you know, I specialize in bending people to my will. But change of subjects? I think after breakfast I really ought to go home. It's not like I really want to but I supposed it'd the polite thing to do for my mother. Not like for a minute, I think she's pacing the floor or anything over me—of course she's not but she does know I'm hurt and just in case she sort of cares, I should make an appearance sooner rather than later so I seems like I sort of care, you know?"

From this, which was unusual rambling for Quinn, Rachel understood that the girl _hoped_ her mother was worried and smaller girl found herself hoping fervently the woman was, too. "I agree, Quinn. That's probably a good plan."

"And do you think we could have breakfast soon so I can take my pain medication? My foot's unhappy."

"Of course."

Before the girl could move, Quinn gave her a tight one-armed hug. "Good morning, Rachel. I'm so happy you're my friend."

She could hear the smile in Rachel's voice, "Good morning, Quinn. And likewise."

**OOOOO**

After filling the fathers in on their plan, a filling breakfast, some much-needed medication and an extensive interrogation by Eric about Quinn's bedroom and bathroom fixtures, they sat at the table finishing their coffee.

Eric said, "I'm going to load up the Landcruiser with your durable medical equipment and supplies and Rachel will follow me to your house in your car."

Quinn shook her head, "What medical equipment? Supplies?"

"A shower chair and a removable grab bar for when you get out of the shower. We've also got some bags for your cast and some rolls of pressure tape so you can keep it dry."

"And you just have this stuff?"

"Jake broke his ankle last year. He needed the stuff and they call it durable medical equipment for a reason. You can re-use it. And don't worry, it's been thoroughly cleaned by Rachel and stored in plastic. You could eat off that shower chair if you didn't have a plate and were feeling crazy."

"I really need a shower chair?"

"You really do. You have limited mobility and you're on strong medication. I'll install the grab bar and put the shower chair in and show you the safe way to shower okay? Even when you're just on Tylenol, the shower chair will keep you off that foot and the grab bar will give you someone to grip to swing your cast in and out of the shower. We've also made a detailed instruction sheets for your mother."

"Wow. Thanks. You've thought of everything."

"Yes. Rachel gets her love of planning from me but she gets her obsessive compulsivity from Jacob."

Quinn glanced with amusement at Rachel who snorted indignantly at this before the man responded, "I resent that, Eric."

"Of course you do, Jake." Eric stood and kissed Jacob on the side of the head, "And that was a kiss to make the sting of truth all better." Jacob huffed but helped his husband clear the table.

OOOOO

After an affectionate goodbye from Jacob, Quinn found herself pondering the oddity of being driven in her own car by Rachel Berry, following a truck driven by Eric Berry. Especially the still greater oddity that she was about to have nearly a rematch of Friday night, except now the cast was on the other foot. It was still Quinn, Rachel and the parents. She sighed.

Rachel reached over and patted Quinn's hand, then placed it back on the steering wheel before asking, "Are you nervous because of Dad and me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…well, despite your saying that your mother has no strong personal disinclination toward us, my father _is _a large gay black man, I _am _rather obviously Jewish and I doubt we're the typical people who show up on your doorstep."

Quinn stared at Rachel's profile, "Are _you_ nervous, Rachel?"

"Very."

"Don't be. I can promise she won't say anything offensive to you or your father. That would be _my _father's job. She may look nervous and act a little weird but it'll only be because it's unusual for her—not because she hates you or anything."

"Okay. But you didn't answer my question. Are _you_ nervous?"

"You remember the insecurity, anxiety and fear stuff we talked about?"

Rachel nodded.

"That how I feel every time I set foot in my house."

Rachel frowned at the road ahead of her, "That's terrible."

"No, Rachel. That's home."

OOOOO

Because Judy Fabray had been told her daughter was on her way home, she paced in her foyer and considered what her reaction should be. Should she hug her daughter? Should she be effusive about how worried she'd been? Because she had been worried and hadn't slept well. In fact, she'd hardly slept at all. She was a _mother_. She should have gone to the hospital. But her daughter had closed herself off from her years before, for good reason, but she didn't know how to make it better.

When she tried to be warmer or more affectionate with Quinn, the girl stiffened and seemed distinctly uncomfortable, even distrustful. She honestly hadn't known whether it would have comforted or pained Quinn more to have her at the hospital. She'd erred on the side of caution and that had been stupid. And that was what had kept her awake. Why couldn't she just be real?

She heard the cars in the drive, her heart raced and her reaction was automatic. Judy!Fabray!Game!Face on. She thumped her forehead gently on the door before she opened it. _No_. _Real_ face on. _Real_ feelings on.

She opened the door and rushed down the stairs to the car where her daughter was being helped out by a smaller girl. As Quinn took her crutches, Judy stopped right in front of her, looked down at her cast, then up into her daughter's tired, pained and anxious face. And it was surprisingly easy to feel tears fill her eyes once she made the choice to be real about it. "Oh, baby. Will it hurt you if I hug you?"

Quinn looked shocked and shy but said, "It's my foot, Mom. Hugs don't hurt."

Judy smiled and smacked her forehead, "What am I thinking?" She gingerly hugged her daughter, then kissed her cheek. "I'm so glad you're home. And where are my manners?" A tall, handsome black man had joined them and offered his hand, "Eric Berry, Ms. Fabray. And this is my daughter, Rachel."

"Please call me Judy and thank you for taking care of my daughter." After they shook hands, Eric said, "Let's get this girl off her foot and I've got some medical equipment in the truck I'll bring in. Quinn will explain it as you go inside."

Rachel asked Quinn, "Do you need help, baby, or can I help Daddy?" Okay. That had just slipped out.

Quinn raised one eyebrow but smiled down at her, "I'm fine, Rach. Mom? Let's get inside. Can you take my bag?"

"Of course I can," she said as Rachel handed it to her.

OOOOO

When they entered the Fabray home, they found Quinn sitting on a chair in the front room and Judy standing next to her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Quinn's told me about the equipment you've brought, Mr. Berry. That's extraordinarily kind of you and you must let me reimburse you for any expense."

He smiled and said, "Call me Eric and there's no cost—just a loan until she doesn't need it anymore. Now, Quinn, I'm going to install this and explain the process of safely showering, okay?"

She nodded.

"Okay. Lead the way to your bedroom."

As they all followed the girl as she worked her way up the stairs on her crutches, Rachel had to admit she felt a sharp curiosity over what Quinn's room might look like. When Quinn opened the door, Rachel was a little surprised but instantly understood she'd had no preconceived notion about how it might look. The walls were a light woodsy green, the furniture was heavy and dark and the bedspread was white with an intricate ivy pattern. There were no pictures on the walls or on any surface anywhere. There was a clock on her bedside table, an iPod docking station and computer on her desk, and a full bookshelf and that was it.

Quinn looked at Rachel and Eric and said dryly, "I think you can both see this is where the magic doesn't happen."

Judy said, "Quinn!" even as Eric and Rachel smiled.

"Don't worry, Judy. We have an irreverent sense of humor Chez Berry so she fits right in. Now let's see this bathroom."

"Right over there." The bathroom was a more pastel green, with green appointments, including towels. Eric pulled back the shower curtain and surveyed it. "Good. This'll work. Sit down on the commode, honey, and we'll measure you."

Quinn sat, he took a tape measure out of his bag and measured her from her knee to foot, hip to knee, then had her lean forward as if she were turning on the water taps and made a measurement there.

He set the chair up then used his measurements to place it in the bathtub. He installed a grip bar that extended about two feet from the side of the tub to the tub and right in front of the chair.

"Alright. That's not going anywhere. Okay, baby-girl, you'll show her how to do this."

Rachel kicked off her shoes and both Judy and Quinn were surprised at the extensive level of detail they explained and demonstrated, down to the placement of shampoos and washcloths, to after-shower toiletries.

At the end of the demonstration, Judy said, "I must say I would never have thought of most of your suggestions."

Eric shrugged, "You never have to until you really have to, Judy. With limited mobility, maneuvering stairs and showering are the most dangerous activities of daily living. The most important thing is to make sure Quinn is safe and also to remember that planning is key. I brought a document listing instructions for things that will make her life safer and easier plus an explanation of her medication and dietary ideas. I'll go over it with you while Quinn takes a shower. How 'bout it Quinn? Wanna take a trial run?"

"Why not? I feel grungy."

"Okay, here's how to wrap that leg." He knelt on the floor and placed a bag over and explained how to wrap it, then used a long strip of pressure tape to seal the bag to her leg. "This is medical pressure tape—and sorry but it's a hellish thing to pull off. So do it slowly, sweetie—this is one tape ripping won't work with because it can take your skin with it. If it starts giving you a rash, definitely let me know and we'll figure something else out but this is the best thing for a start."

He stood, "I'll leave Rach to get your shampoos and stuff. She knows where to put your wash cloth and towels too and you can call her if you need her."

"Thanks, Eric."

"Oh, and one more thing?"

"Yes?"

"You're wearing your uniform at school?"

"Yes."

"You wear some sort of briefs under your skirt, right?"

Quinn looked at her mother, whose eyes were goose eggs but who blessedly kept her mouth shut before replying, "I do."

"Sorry about the topic, Judy, but remember, I'm a doctor and a caring father. Quinn, whether you're wearing panties or your briefs, put them on in here, sitting on the toilet. It's closer to the floor than your bed. Put the cast through first and your good foot through second—reverse it for taking them off."

Rachel was blushing and said, "Thank you Daddy but—"

Quinn said, "It's fine, Rachel. Good to know. Thank you, Eric. And now if you don't mind."

OOOOO

As they left the bathroom and they heard the adults close the bedroom door behind them, Quinn slumped on the toilet seat, "I don't know about you but I never want to talk about my underwear in front of your father and my mother again."

"I agree. Even my incredible powers of dissociation from mortification were failing me."

"You may have to use them again. Would you mind getting me some underwear from my drawer?"

"Of course not. Why would I?"

"Uh, because considering my feelings for you, I feel like Jewfro asking you to rifle through my underwear?"

"No. Quinn, you'd be Jacob if you wanted to rifle through _mine_."

Quinn raised a hand, "You have a point. It's the second drawer from the top in my dresser. Any bra and any panties. They don't have to match. Who would have imagined I'd ever wish I'd kept some of my maternity underwear?"

She ran a hand over tape on her leg, looking at Eric's handiwork, "Did you know I truly fantasized about burning them? In the end, I just trashed them because I knew, like me, there was probably no other home for teenaged unwed pregnancy panties." She looked up at Rachel, "Which is neither here nor there. I have pairs of tear-away sweats in the last drawer and grab any t-shirt one drawer up. I think I'll keep the Team Berry sweatshirt for the time being."

Rachel smiled. "Maybe we'll get one made just for you."

"Maybe I'll wear it just for you. Now, how about my underwear?"

"That's what she said."

Quinn batted her eyelashes, "Why, Rachel Berry, that could almost be construed as flirtation."

"Not at all," Rachel replied, twisting her hands together, "A little joke—just a tension reliever."

Quinn smirked, "Just a tension reliever. That's what _she_ said."

OOOOO

Judy led Eric through the house and into her kitchen. "Would you like some coffee? I just brewed some."

"I'd love it. You have a lovely home, Judy."

Judy dipped her head in acknowledgment, "Thank you. But it's a little large and lot ostentatious for two people. Here—I'll pour and you can make your own to taste."

They were silent as they worked on their coffee and took a seat at the kitchen table.

Eric had placed his papers on the table and reached for them, "I'll explain what I think will help Quinn make the most expeditious recovery."

"Of course," Judy said, and then she paused before tilting her head and looking into his deep brown eyes, "But first, why are you doing this Eric?"

He sat back in his chair, "Clarify that question and I'll answer it."

"Why are you helping my daughter to this extent? I know your daughter is no particular friend of my daughter's and believe me I don't mean that in any derogatory way. I'm just saying it's a bit odd for this level of concern from two people I know of but have never met."

He looked into her eyes and saw no judgement or suspicion, just an honest request for information.

"What do you know about my daughter, Judy?"

"Very little. What Russell told me meant nothing to me. That amounted to the fact she's Jewish and has gay fathers of different races than ours. Obviously, I've seen her sing during New Directions' performances. The only thing Quinn's honestly ever told me about her is that she's the most talented person in Lima and probably the most talented she'd ever meet. That said? She said that like it made her angry so I never got the feeling they were friends. Of course, I wouldn't know because she never tells me anything. Not that I've ever truly deserved her confidence."

She smiled sadly at him and said, "I'm sure you know many more of the basic facts about my family than I do yours. But you have nothing to be ashamed of with yours. I can't say that with mine. And I assure you I do _not_ mean my daughter when I say that."

Eric took a sip of his coffee and wondered what to say. To another parent, someone who making an effort at being real with him. "They have never, ever been friends, Judy. But they're trying to be. If Quinn chooses to tell you what they've been to each other, that's her decision but I would urge you, please, not to ask her or push her about that subject. That would be painful to her."

Judy stared at her coffee as if looking for an answer, then nodded and looked up at him, "I'm not a fool, Eric. I don't really know my daughter but I know what Russell wanted her to be, what he trained her to be and how I neglected her into being. I think she's been hurting your daughter, hasn't she?"

He shook his head, "I won't say that and won't answer that. I will only say she's been hurting herself."

His eyes were so kind that hers misted over, "I ask you again, why are you doing this?"

He tentatively covered her hand with his, "Because Quinn deserves all the love and support she can get and my family will always, always give it to her. I can see you love your daughter, Judy, but I can also see you have some work to do. You're not alone. Now you have allies."

She smiled at him and gripped his hand and he grinned back to break the seriousness of the moment, "And if you think I'm bad, you don't know what you've gotten yourself into when my husband and daughter get loose." He shook her hand playfully before releasing it, "Let's get some coffee in and go over these care sheets, okay? "

"Deal."

OOOOO

Rachel called through the door, "Quinn? Are you okay?"

"Yes, Rachel, for the fifteenth time," Quinn shouted above the water, "When I'm not I think you'll hear an audible thunk in the tub."

"Don't even joke about that," Rachel shouted through the door.

"You just stamped your foot, didn't you? Never mind. I know you did. For God's sake, just come in Rachel and let's stop shouting. It's not like you can see me."

Rachel entering the humid, foggy bathroom. "I just don't understand what's taking so much time, Quinn. It's not like you have an acre of body to cleanse."

"Well, let's see. I have a cast on my foot, I've never used a shower chair and I might not have an acre but I don't have only a postage stamp like you, either."

"I resent that."

Quinn snickered.

"I heard that."

"And I meant for you to."

Moments went by before Quinn said, "Rach?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for taking care of me. You're being sweet and I'm being mean. This is just weird for me."

"I understand. I would be quite nettlesome were I in your situation. Apology accepted."

When Quinn turned the water off, Rachel stood. "I'll be outside but please, please be careful getting out of the shower."

"Promise."

Rachel waited on tenterhooks for what seemed like a year but was only ten minutes before Quinn called her into the bathroom. She was fully dressed but the bathroom floor was a mess, with towels, a plastic bag and tape strewn over it.

Quinn smiled at her, "I did it!"

"You did!" Rachel held up a hand, "High five."

Quinn smacked her hand with a laugh.

"If you just let me get the floor cleaned, I'll help you with your hair."

"You don't have to."

Rachel shrugged, "I guess I want to?"

Quinn lifted an eyebrow mischievously, "Please girl. Basic math. 'You' plus 'I want to' in a sentence equals 'oh yeah' to me."

"Hel_lo_, Noah."

"Damn. Burn, Rach."

They stared at other, then grinned. Life, both decided independently while looking into each other's eyes, was definitely on an upward trend.

**A/N Next chapter? Brittana and school!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Again, this is AU and doesn't follow show canon, especially timelines. **

**Sorry for the delay but this is getting long. This includes more Berry-Fabray parental bonding and school talk. It's also includes the set-up for what's going to be a healthy dose of girl-bonding between Santana and Quinn and between Rachel and Brittany. **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. And if you don't? Hell to the no. So **_**entirely **_**kidding. I'm just saying that was a damned great Glee song. Now I have something to say when I fight with my brother because he never puts the toothpaste cap on or doesn't put the toilet lid down? I say hell to the no. The list goes on and on. Hope you enjoy this.**

OOOOO

After cleaning up the mess that Quinn had made and drying her hair, they made their way into the bedroom but before Rachel could take a seat, Quinn asked, "Would you mind going to tell the parentals I survived immersion and scope them out to make sure they're okay? And if they look like they are, could you tell them I wanted to talk with you about a Glee project or something and it'll only take about thirty minutes?"

Rachel's face fell. "Is something wrong?"

"No, sweetheart. I just want to talk to you."

"Okay. Be right back."

Sure enough, she was back in less than five minutes. "They said that was fine because it might take longer."

Quinn's heart jumped, "What might take longer?"

"After they finished talking about your care, your mother rinsed their coffee cups and my daddy noticed that your kitchen faucet is leaking. He's going to run home and get a part and then he's showing her how to change a washer or something like that. And he'll make her do it because he thinks it's better to teach someone to do something than to do it for them."

"_My_ mother's going to _plumb_?"

"Yes. That's the plan. She seemed rather enthused over it."

"Judy Fabray plumbing with Eric Berry," Quinn shook her head, "This is the strangest weekend on record. A good one, mind you, but a strange one."

"I concur." Rachel suddenly seemed at a loss for further words so she ran her hand over Quinn's bedspread, "This is pretty." She looked around the room, "I didn't know you were such a fan of green."

"Brings out the color in my eyes."

Rachel glanced at her and Quinn shrugged, "Kidding. I find the color green very soothing. Always have."

"Oh, I see…that's very interesting and…well, I suppose we should begin. What did you want to talk to me about?"

The anxiety in Rachel's voice and eyes was so pronounced that Quinn covered the girl's hand with her own. "Nothing bad, I promise. Tell me what you're feeling right now."

Rachel slightly rocked in place as she answered, "I'm feeling I know I have to leave you soon and that while this seems real, as soon as I'm alone at home it'll feel like it's all been a dream and I'll do what I always do when I feel insecure. I'll want to call you and text you multiple times and I'll irritate you and you won't want to be my friend anymore. That plus the fact that we won't be in physical proximity will give you the opportunity to re-examine your decision to befriend me and time to come to your senses, as it were. I told you that I'm affectionate by nature but I believe the actual term would be clingy, which is, evidently, a deeply unattractive thing to be. In fact, I watched a documentary about chimpanzees with Finn once and we saw a baby chimp wrapped tightly around its mother as she walked and I heard him say, "I know how she feels."

Quinn's mouth dropped open, "He said that to you?"

"Under his breath. I don't believe I was supposed to hear it."

"Wow. He's a bigger idiot than I thought and that's really saying something." She patted the bed next to her, "Rachel, come here."

Rachel scooted over next to Quinn, "This is a friend hug, okay? Wrap your arms around me, okay, and put your head on my chest." Rachel complied and Quinn wrapped her arms around the smaller girl and rested her cheek on Rachel's head. "There. Doesn't that feel nice?"

Quinn felt the girl nod and tighten her grip. "I am completely happy right now, Rachel. Completely. This is all I want so you actually can't be too clingy with me. You can't hug me too often. You can't call me or text me too often. There's no one I'd rather be hugging or talking with than you. I want that and you can trust that and try to relax with that. I know that'll take time but I promise you that's the truth."

They held each other for a few moments before Quinn continued, "And that's actually a good segue for what I wanted to talk about."

Rachel squeezed her hard, then let her go and put some distance between them. "What is it?"

"We need to talk about school tomorrow."

The girl actually winced.

"Yeah, I thought that's how you'd feel. I know you're giving me a ride to school in the morning and when you pick me up I'll be in my uniform which I can't help but think is an anxiety trigger for you."

"Completely."

"Alright. Granted. Another promise? Even in uniform, I'll still be your friend tomorrow and I'll treat you exactly the way I'm treating you today, okay?"

Rachel nodded.

"But here's the hard part. And actually this is where I'm a little frightened that you'll come to your senses about befriending me. I really do want to improve myself but I'll still be me, Rachel. I'm not particularly nice and I'm a work in progress. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

"Here's the part I don't think you understand. The fact is that, no matter what, discipline must be maintained at school. Do you know it's not just me or S or Finn or even that idiot Karofsky who created this? That w_e_ didn't make all this up, Rach? Sure, we're all part of it and I'm the top of it now but I walked into a position that was already there. It's been our high school's culture for years. Who knows why? Teachers who look the other way, coaches like Sylvester who actively pit us against each other. Principals who show zero leadership? Doesn't matter. I didn't make up this whole Lord of the Flies thing we've got at our school. But it is what it is now and any kumbaya moment I might have may make a tiny difference but it'll take years and staff turnover to make that school any better."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I've made you an open target for years and that'll take work to change. You're my friend and I will always treat you kindly. As for the rest of the school? I'll take the outright cruelty off the table but I can't and won't take the meanness or the intimidation off. I'll have Santana do the same. It's the only way we can keep discipline and protect you and Brittany. When you spend time with me tomorrow, you'll see the person you've been afraid of in that same scary uniform but when I look at _you_, when I interact with _you_, you'll still know how much I love you. And I won't care who knows it or sees it."

Rachel hesitated, then said quietly, "But that seems so unfair to the other people."

"And you care because all of them are so fair with you."

"But that—that's—why does it have to be winner and loser—that's ridiculous."

Quinn threw her hands in the air, "I _completely_ agree. But that's what we're working with. You're on the side of the winners now. And I can _so_ envision your getting a huge burst of survivor guilt about that. Another reason I'm insecure about you."

Rachel looked at the floor and chewed her lip thoughtfully.

"Look at me Rachel."

When the girl met her eyes, Quinn said, "I'll do the best I can but we'll just have to see. I think you need to put some thought into what happens in a vacuum. You think, because you're an optimist, that if all the lions at the school—the really mean ones, like me and S and Karofsky and whoever—suddenly turned into lambs, that everything would be all sunshine and rainbows at good old WMHS. I think you're wrong. Actually I know you're wrong."

Quinn's voice lowered but was more adamant. "I guarantee you, if we suddenly all became sweetness and light, you'd find there were more new and vicious lions in that school than you ever dreamed existed because they'd been too intimidated by us to act out. I know that for a fact. Sorry for the language, but just remember how many, and I'm completely positive there've been lots, of the loser kids who've treated you like shit—just because they could—because they were just a little less loser than you? Do you think they're really any nicer than I am? I don't ask you to agree with me, Rachel. I'm just asking you to remember my reasons, and that I actually _do_ have them, while you're pre-judging my intentions."

Rachel did not miss the logic in this but said, "I'll have to consider this but while the thought of you at school fills me with considerable trepidation, if this friendship is going to work, I know I must begin from a position of trust. I reserve the right, however, to discuss my feelings if I need to."

"Of course you should. I want you to. And I'll talk to you if I'm feeling insecure because I know I will."

"Why would you feel insecure?"

Quinn stared at her, "Uh, Rachel? Think about it. You completely deserve my friendship, trust and love. I pretty much don't even deserve your tolerance."

"While that's kind of you to say, baby, I think that's a word you need to take out of your vocabulary for the time being. We can't move forward if you keep thinking about what you do or don't deserve from me. That's actually my decision. And I think you deserve another hug."

She hugged her quickly and popped up from the bed, "Do you feel up to walking downstairs to watch plumbing?"

"Please. I'd crawl through broken glass to watch my mother plumbing."

"Okay, but before we go downstairs?"

"Yeah?"

Rachel reached for her bag and sheepishly opened it. "I know Brittany will probably put a duck sticker on your cast."

"Almost undoubtedly."

"I guess I thought I should have first honors because, well, that's a little bit obvious."

Even as Rachel pulled out a page of gold star stickers from her bag, she blushed.

Quinn clapped her hands, "That's perfect. Put one on each side of my ankle and I'll look like a superhero or something."

Rachel placed the rather large stickers on each side of Quinn's cast. "You sure you don't mind?"

"Are you kidding? Finally. _Finally_, I'm cool."

OOOOO

When they made it into the kitchen they found Judy under the sink with Eric squatting next to her and pointing at something.

Quinn smiled at the sight. "The apocalypse is nigh."

Judy turned as best she could from her position and smiled at them, "Girls! Quinnie? Was your shower okay?"

"Perfect. I came down to see you plumb."

"I know! Eric just got back with a washer. I'm turning off the water supply to the sink!"

Quinn cut her eyes in complete disbelief at Rachel and took a seat. Rachel pulling up another kitchen chair and gently helped her elevate her leg.

"That's right, Judy. Now remember, clockwise is always tightening, counter-clockwise is loosening. So righty-tighty, lefty-loosy. You're needing to close the water off, so you're tightening to the right."

"Done!"

"Okay. Come out from under there." He stood and gave her a hand up. "So the next part is you put a stopper or at least a dish cloth in each sink drain so you don't lose screws down the sink."

The girls watched with rapt attention as Judy Fabray cheerfully went through the next steps of changing a rubber washer in her faucet. When she was finished, Eric said, "Get under the sink and turn on the water, Judy." When she'd done so, he gave her another hand up and said, "Now, turn on that faucet."

She did and watched with astonishment at the faucet and then up at him, "It isn't leaking!" She turned to Quinn, "I fixed it!"

Quinn smiled at her, "Go Team Mom!"

"Team Fabray for the win," Rachel added.

"If your father could see me now!"

"I know, right? He'd hate the fact you could do anything without him. But somehow, I think he'd hate the fact a gay black man was on the floor with you talking about righty-tighty and lefty-loosy just a little bit more."

Judy was scandalized but Eric and Rachel roared with laughter.

OOOOO

After sharing another cup of coffee together and begging off brunch, as Rachel and Eric stood to leave, Eric said, "Judy—if I may have a word about one last thing privately?"

She was surprised by this but said, "Of course."

When they'd left the room, he said, "I'm just giving those two a chance to do that thing all high school girlfriends do. Both my sisters did it with their friends. It's all super secret and no-parents-allowed, much less brothers."

"I see." Judy said as she nodded but realized to her shame that it hadn't yet occurred to her that her child was now old enough to need personal privacy that didn't necessarily mean that she was shutting her out.

He watched the turmoil in her eyes, "They're at that age where they're becoming their own people, completely removed from us. And that's really tough. Tough for me and Jacob, anyway."

She smiled up at him, "Thank you. And thanks for teaching me to fix my sink. It's such a simple thing but it means more than you know."

He put a gentle hand on her arm, "You can fix lots of things, Judy. Just take your time and know that you're not alone."

OOOOO

At the same time Quinn stood as she asked, "What was that about?"

Rachel shrugged, "I'm sure Daddy's just giving us privacy to say goodbye."

"Why? What'd he say to you?"

"Say to _me?_ Nothing. He's just like that. He knows when to give me space."

"Oh…well—sorry. I'm just a little—this is all a little weird and—"

"And I know that and I have to say goodbye for the day."

"But only like physically, right?" Quinn's voice was so tentative and sweet, Rachel felt her heart ache.

"Absolutely. You have a baby chimp to keep in touch with, after all."

"I love baby chimps."

Rachel hugged her. "I'll call you."

"I bet I'll call you first."

Rachel pulled away first and said, "Thank you for everything. This was both the most harrowing and happiest weekend of my life."

"Me too, sweetheart."

When they'd all said their formal goodbyes, they were scarcely out of the Fabray driveway before Rachel felt her phone buzz.

Quinn Fabray: **It feels like years since I've seen you. This is torture**

Rachel smiled at her phone and her father, who'd glanced at her, was smart enough not to say a word.

OOOO

Quinn had hugged her mom and they'd situated her in the den to watch a movie and perhaps take a nap when her phone buzzed.

Rachel Berry: **Home. Please keep your foot elevated. I'm experiencing severe separation anxiety**

Quinn Fabray: **Me too sweetie—so much you wouldn't believe it**

Quinn sighed happily even as her phone buzzed again. She looked down with a smile, expecting Rachel and saw:

Santana Lopez: **Me and B are coming over. She won't take no for an answer and we gots to keep our B happy understood?**

Quinn Fabray: **You're the daughter of a doctor and using ghetto speak but yes, understood on both counts**

Santana Lopez: **Fuck you, Q**

Quinn Fabray: **In your dreams or nightmares. Choose**

Santana Lopez: **I do love me some tall blonde cheerleaders. You sure about that**

Santana Lopez: **Guess I shoulda added the question mark at the end because you likes your grammar and it makes all the diff in that sentence, huh**

Quinn Fabray: **You're a menace, S. See you soon**

She quickly tapped out:

Quinn Fabray: **S and B coming over (?) please pray for me? Laughing**

It took seconds before the answer came:

Rachel Berry: **Should I let myself down easily?**

Quinn Fabray:** You should prepare to feel S getting her feelings hurt. NOTHING and NO ONE will keep me from you **

Rachel Berry: **Will you text me when it's over?**

Quinn Fabray: **I'll call you, angel**

"Mom?"

"Yes, Quinnie?"

"S and B and coming to see me. Could you answer the door and let them in?"

"Of course."

OOOO

Judy announced her visitors from the top of the stairs but as the door closed and Santana and Brittany tread down, Quinn heard a loud "Where da WASP queen gimp in da houze?"

"WASP queen? Fine. Right down here, my sweet Hispanic pyramid knee-pad princess."

"Not for eight weeks, blondie."

"San, be nice. Don't call Q a bug and Q? Knee-pads don't have races. I totally looked it up online."

Santana kissed Brittany on the shoulder and smiled at Quinn with nothing but grudging affection, "We're just teasing each other, B. Damn Q, _that's _a cast."

Quinn looked at her foot, "Yeah, Eric—Rachel's daddy—looked at the x-ray and said it's actually a little more than a hairline and a little less than a complete fracture so that's why they're erring on immobilizing it for so long."

"Q?"

"B?"

"I don't understand." Quinn reflected upon the fact that no one on Earth beside Rachel could look as bereft as Brittany. She had been helpless around Brittany for ten years and now she had two people she couldn't refuse.

"That's okay, B. Sit down here and I'll explain what's wrong."

Brittany sat on the floor by the cast and Quinn explained her injury and what the cast would do for it. The girl looked tremendously dismayed, "It hurts a lot, I bet."

"It does but they gave me medicine and my friends visiting makes me feel better too."

Brittany smiled as she looked the cast over, "You have gold stars on it already."

"I do. Rachel got there first because she took care of me when I got hurt but I was hoping for some ducks."

Brittany smiled and reached for her bag. "I've got some—and San has some, too."

Quinn's eyes widened, "S brought ducks, Britt?"

"No," Brittany shook her head, "Stickers. But you'll see."

Brittany produced two rather large and vivid baby duck stickers and asked, "Where do you want them?"

"Your choice, B."

Brittany smiled and placed one at the top of Quinn's cast and on the top of her foot, but upside down.

"That's so the duck's looking at you."

Quinn looked down and sure enough, "So it is. Thanks so much B. Can I get a hug?"

Brittany happily complied then rocked back on her knees, "San says you're friends with Rach now, right?"

Quinn looked from Santana to Brittany and smiled, "Absolutely. I think maybe Rachel's going to be my BFF."

"That's cool," the taller blonde girl said as she scrubbed her face with one hand, "but that's sort of dumb, too, because she's been your BFF like maybe forever."

Quinn didn't want to just wholesale reject Brittany's hypothesis because anyone who loved her never did that, "Well, if you think about it? No, B. Not exactly. Not really."

"Sorta really Q." She shrugged, "You just didn't know but that's no biggie. That means me and San get to like her now too, right?"

"Absolutely"

"Epic. So I get to be friends with Rach, right?"

"Sure, if you want."

"I do. So I sort of need to go talk to her and you and San can talk and stuff."

"_What_? Like right now?"

"Yes, Q. I have something I have to tell her."

Quinn looked to Santana who seemed as mystified as she was as she asked, "Britts—can't what you have to to say to the dwarf wait?"

"No. I have to tell her now."

"But I have the car."

"So? Her house is like two miles away. I can walk that in 24 minutes easy or could run it under 12. No big deal."

Santana lowered her voice, "What's so important with the midget, B?"

The taller girl shrugged, "It's sort of private." When Santana's face dropped, Brittany said, "Not sexy private or anything like that. Just something I want to talk to her about. I don't see the big deal. You and Q talk about private stuff all the time and never tell me and I know it's sometimes even about me and I don't get mad or weird about it."

Okay. Too true, Quinn thought.

"But, Britts, we've got to plan what we're doing at school tomorrow about the dwarf."

Brittany shrugged again, "No, _you guys _have to plan. I just sit here and nod and stuff and then you tell me what to do and I say okay. I mean, it's not like you need me for that. You can just tell me what to do when you're finished, right?"

Quinn tried not to look as incredibly uncomfortable as she felt about the truth of that but Santana failed.

"Baby? What's wrong? Are we having a fight I don't know about?"

Brittany smiled, "No! Of course we're not. Everything's good."

"So what's all this about?"

"What I said. I want to talk to Rachel. And you and Q should talk. I just wanted to come by and see Q was okay."

Brittany smiled at a befuddled Quinn who smiled back. "She is. So I get to talk to Rachel now and I'm going to go and you guys can talk and plot stuff."

Santana was shaking her head, "I don't understand, B."

"Really? Welcome to my world, San."

Quinn and Santana immediately flushed at this because, occasionally, Brittany could throw their perception of her intelligence back in their faces like the harshest of slushie facials.

"I'm sorry, Britts. I'm just being all jelly. Call me when you're ready to go home and I'll pick you up okay? Please?"

"Yes."

Brittany hugged Quinn again and then leaned down and said "Get well soon" to the girl's cast before she kissed it.

And then she gave Santana a quick peck on the lips. "No worries. Snow flurries."

Evidently that was a joke between them because they both smiled.

"Q?"

"B?"

"Will you text Rachel and tell her I'm coming over. I don't have her number."

"Sure."

Quinn Fabray: **I miss you so much but S is here and for some reason, B is on her way to your house to talk to you about God knows what. Trust her more than you trust anyone. Be nice.**

Rachel Berry: **I miss you too. Do you imagine you actually have to tell me to be nice to someone who's said things she didn't mean and has always been relentlessly, maybe on the sly, kind to me? Seriously? Thanks for the heads up**

"I think they'll be cool, S."

"I don't like it."

"What? S? B's growing up."

Santana felt her eyes stinging but said, "What the fuck ever. Up and at'em, kiddo." Quinn raised her leg and Santana sat on the couch and arranged the pillow elevating the girl's cast over a pillow covering her own thighs. Santana put a hand on Quinn's leg. They _so_ didn't do this whole touchy emotional thing very often, but there it was.

"Maybe we should talk, Q."

Quinn nodded, "Maybe we should."

**OOOO**

Brittany rang the bell at the Berry household and Rachel answered the door but she didn't expect to get what she got.

A hug that lifted her from her floor.

She returned it.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Again, this is AU and doesn't follow show canon, especially timelines.**

**Heavy dosages of Brittany and Santana. And you know what? I _worked_ on this.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**OOOO  
**

As Brittany lifted their daughter and hugged her, Eric and Jacob wondered what was next.

Rachel had told her fathers Brittany was coming over and she'd explained who the girl was although they already knew her as the phenomenal dancer in New Directions. But even as Rachel explained, they couldn't quite understand because they'd never heard a speech from their daughter that was so discombobulated.

"_Brittany is…well, you'll see, she's Brittany. And you know Quinn is Quinn. But Santana is Santana and she's violent and I guess to explain it in a way you can understand they all sort of go together like Cerberus, who I'm sure you both remember is the three-headed dog that guards the gates of Hades in Greek and Roman mythology. But Santana's like the pit-bull head in the equation or maybe rather a mob-hit person or something. I'm truly physically afraid of her." _

_From her fathers' facial reactions, she said, "I'm sorry. That was misleading. It's not like she's ever touched me. She doesn't have to. She's Quinn's best friend and her strong arm but even they've had physical fights and she's attacked boys and really hurt them so I know what's what. And to get to the point even though I'm not sure I have one at this point? It's not really fair to tell you this because it's perhaps the very definition of telling tales out of school but Brittany and Santana aren't _together _together but they sort of are together and always have been,"_

"_So whatever Brittany says? Just please. No matter what? Don't laugh. Just accept her and please be nice to her. She's never hurt me. She's said mean things but she's never meant them. Please just don't do anything but be nice to her. I mean, I know you'd never be anything but nice but Brittany is…you'll see." _

When Brittany released her hug and returned her to the porch, she dropped to her knees.

Rachel, "Brittany, please—"

Brittany looked up with her soft blue eyes, "It's what people do in movies when they really mean stuff, isn't it? Am I messing up?"

When Rachel saw that slightest bit of confusion and sincerity, she said, "No. As usual, you're perfect."

Brittany smiled. "Good. I had to come over because Q's your friend now so I get to be your friend too, don't I?"

"Absolutely."

"I don't care that your parents are watching. I've always wanted to be your friend since first grade. But Q and S wouldn't let me. I didn't know why until we were like twelve and then I _so_ knew why and had to explain it to San but we couldn't tell Q we knew because that would have made her sad and making her sad would have made her even meaner to you but anyway it was so dumb I couldn't believe it. So I guess I want to say I'm really super sorry for being mean when I didn't ever want to be and I'm happy we can be friends now if you want to be."

Rachel, who'd never heard Brittany speak at such length, dropped to her knees and said, "Of course I do. But you've always been my secret friend, haven't you?"

"I knew it!" Brittany grinned, "You could tell, couldn't you?"

"Of course I could."

They smiled at each other.

"It's crazy how tiny you are on your knees, Rach. It's just like when you're standing up except even smaller. Can I hug you again?"

"You can hug me any and every time you want, Brittany."

Brittany hugged her again. "That's like only the first thing I want to talk about."

She stood, gave Rachel her hand and pulled her to her feet. She turned to Eric and Jacob and extended her hand, "I'm sorry but I had to do I'm sorry with Rachel before being polite. I'm Brittany Pierce. It's nice to meet you and I wanted to thank you for taking care of Q. That means a lot to me because she's like my bestie after S."

As her fathers shook Brittany's hand, Rachel was a little gobsmacked because this person both was and wasn't the girl she was used to. She'd known that Brittany could be surprisingly different and spot-on privately but this was a level above what she'd ever seen.

"Call me Jacob, Brittany, and call Eric Eric. Two Mr. Berry's confuses us."

"I totally get it. Otherwise, how could I tell the difference?"

The delivery was completely deadpan but Jacob got it. And laughed, "Let's get in the house. We were about to have a snack. What would you prefer, Brittany? Cookies and milk or veggie chips and Vitamin Water?

"Veggie chips, maybe? I mean, they sound cool. I've never had them."

Eric rolled his eyes, "You're in for a real vegan treat, Britt."

Rachel glared at him, "Don't listen to my daddy, Brittany. They're delicious."

"But, baby girl? The vegetables. When I think of the poor vegetables."

Rachel stamped her foot and as Brittany glanced between them, she realized they were joking. So she said, "Eric? It's not funny. Potatoes are people too."

**OOOO**

Quinn and Santana stared at each other for a few moments before Quinn laughed, "Okay, big guy, what are we supposed to talk about?"

"Fuck you."

"I think we've discussed that under that category of 'you wish.'"

"Ooh, _chica_. Fucking girls? Since you brought that can of worms to the table and opened it up, let's parley."

Quinn smiled, "It's so unfair that you only show this whole 'I'm so much smarter than anyone thinks I am' thing with me and only when we're by ourselves." Santana was actually one of the smartest persons Quinn had ever met but she picked and chose when to show that.

"I'm smart because I know the word parley? It's like, what, from the French verb parler? Who doesn't know that? It's all Middle Ages and shit or something like that and kings and parliaments and pirates use it so it's cool."

"Pirates in movies use it, San."

"Whatever. Let's talk about sex."

"You're impossible."

"I'm so, like totally possible. Ask anyone."

"I don't like that about you, San."

"Hold up. I'm sorry," Santana glared at her. "Did I ask you if I cared if you like that about me, Quinn?"

"No. Maybe I could ask Brittany if she likes that about you. But wait? I know the answer."

Even as the words left her mouth, she couldn't believe she'd actually said that out loud and for just a moment, Quinn thought Santana was going to hit her. But she didn't. She just stared at her. And stared at her. Quinn watched pent-up fury boiling in her friend's eyes. Fury she knew so well. So well. Something was going to happen and her legs were in Santana's lap and what the hell could she do?

She watched Santana visibly making a tremendous effort to rein herself in—thank God. Her voice was biting and cold. "Who the hell do you think you are saying something like that to me?"

Quinn couldn't think of anything to say so she stalled with, "Excuse me?"

"Yes. Excuse you, Quinn. You have the gall—fuck no—you know what? This deserves the full-on cliché—the unmitigated gall—to say that to me? About me and Britts? Yeah bitch. Excuse you."

Quinn understood with great dismay that this was not only Santana but Santana with her smart on. Quinn backed up emotionally because there was really nowhere, physically, to go.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Wow. That was an amazingly lame rejoinder, even for you," Santana's voice was harsh and scoffing, "And oh, the many, many ways I could decimate that pathetic little rhetorical fallacy. You know exactly what I mean, bitch. So fuck you sideways and backwards and even though you're already in a cast tell me why I shouldn't beat your lily-white ass down for what you just said to me and put you in another."

Quinn looked into Santana's dark eyes and could see the girl was angry but she was really more hurt than angry. She'd done it yet again. Hurt someone she loved and it wasn't—it _so_ wasn't fair.

She closed her eyes for a few moments and then opened them.

"That was just…so wrong of me." She grasped the girl's hand, lifted it, kissed it and wasn't particularly surprised that Santana allowed her to. "I know probably more than anyone how hard you try for B and you don't deserve my judgment or saying mean things that aren't my place to say. Seriously. It was completely unkind of me and I apologize."

Quinn watched Santana's eyes change. It was subtle but it was there. "Correct, Q. But let's don't get too syrupy," she said before she took their joined hands and kissed Quinn's. "There. We're done with the corn. So talk. You know you want to."

Cut and dry and change the subject. That was so Santana. Quinn didn't laugh although she wanted to. "Thank you for accepting my apology."

"Whatever. And don't go all super-formal WASP on me, okay? Because please. I've known you like forever. You're always a bitch but you're a bitch with a stick up your ass when anything means something to you and the hobbit means something so go ahead. Spill. I told you I won't tell anyone. And by way, Britts told me about you and Berry when we were twelve and I didn't say a word. She knew before you and me did. So that's not on me."

"She's really scary that way."

"Tell me about it."

Quinn looked fondly at this girl who was her best friend and the meanest, smartest and tiniest person with the biggest attitude she'd ever known. Her voice softened, "I really am sorry and I love you, S."

Santana snorted. "Fine. Right. I love you too but let's not push it because we've said that twice this weekend and it's sort of like, I don't know, how they train astronauts for space by spinning the shit out of them or something. It's nauseating. It's not us."

They looked at each other.

"Maybe that's what nauseates us, S. It is us and we don't like it."

Santana smirked and then smiled. "You completely suck."

"Back atcha."

**OOOO**

"Veggie chips are delicious."

Rachel beamed at Brittany and glared at her daddy. "I told you."

"To each his own," Eric said. He loved veggie chips. It was a point of pride with him to pretend not to.

"Brittany, you said you wanted to talk about other things. Should we go to my room?"

"No. I mean, not really. I totally want to see your room but I think maybe your dads should hear."

Her face was so somber that all of the Berrys stopped eating.

"If I'm your friend now and Q is? That means you have to be around San a lot and I need to explain something about her."

Rachel nodded. "Okay."

"I mean, I know she's super mean to you and everything but you need to understand. And this is, like, something I've never told anyone—not even Q. It would make San cry and crazy angry if she knew I told you so you can't tell her or Q, okay?"

Rachel didn't know what to say to that but Jacob said very softly, "Brittany? Is this a secret about Santana? Because maybe that's not fair to tell us, sweetie."

Brittany shook her head, "No. It's about me. I wouldn't tell anybody anything secret about San."

She gave them a thin smile. "I mean, it's embarrassing about me but you have to understand because it's like if you're friends with Q and me you get S, right?"

Rachel nodded and Brittany grinned at her.

"I met San in preschool when we were three. I looked at her and I can still remember my first thought about her, 'There she is.' Which is weird if you think about it. She was my best friend from that first day. And the only thing I'll tell you that's sort of secret is that San always says she's angry we wasted three whole years before we met each other."

The Berrys smiled at her and she smiled back at them for a moment but her expression changed into the blank look Rachel was so familiar with.

"San could read when she was five and she was teaching me the alphabet but when it was time to go to first grade, the teachers said I couldn't go with San because I needed to go to special school."

Brittany looked down at the table. "My parents and San's parents were friends because we were besties and San sat outside our living room one night and listened to them talking and the teachers had told my parents the best they could hope for me was…something called assisted living."

She looked up at them, "That means when you're too dumb to live."

They nodded solemnly because they were listening but what could they say?

"That made San really, really mad. So she went in and told our parents that I _could_ go to real school with her and that we'd show them or something like that. And so I did. I mean, they couldn't _make _me go to special school. They could just let me go to real school and know I'd be an epic fail and go back to special school where they'd teach me, I don't know, to bag groceries like forever."

Brittany smiled at them, a very tiny smile. "But I didn't fail. I have a C average, which isn't good and I know that but it's good for me."

The Berrys smiled at her.

"San tied my shoes until we were eight. San held my hand crossing the street until we were twelve and even now she forgets and grabs for my hand. If she's with me, she still always makes sure food or stuff like coffee isn't too hot for me to eat or drink. Now, if she's not, I still wait until I see everyone around me take a bite and put an ice cube in my drink because she taught me that so I'd be okay. San learned how to drive and she taught me how and it was totally simple once she explained it's just like dancing and the whole point is to move around and not crash into other dancers. Our parents got us a kid checking account together last year and she helps me balance it every week. She always helps me with my homework and she walks me to my classes. Maybe telling you all this will make you think even more, well, you know, what everyone thinks about me. But I'm in real school, I'm a cheerleader on the best team in the United States and I know I'm going to go to college on a cheer or dance scholarship. I don't have a special kid life because of San."

Rachel, who actually knew Santana but didn't know this, felt tears stinging her eyes.

"Just, I guess, try to remember she's had to be six for both of us or twelve for both of us or now sixteen for both of us. And she's just a kid and that's crazy hard and I know she doesn't always do the right thing. I know that. I see that. I'm dumb but I'm not stupid. I guess I just wanted to tell you who she is. I know she's really, really mean but she has to be because she's so tiny and all she wants is for me to be okay and for us to be able to stay together."

She nodded and smiled shyly. "So that's all. Rach can tell you that's more than I usually talk in maybe a year. But it was important and like I said, it's really super-secret about the assisted living thing because just thinking about it makes San cry and she's worse than even Q is when you make her cry."

Jacob could distinctly feel that a big change of topic was needed. "I can promise we won't say a word and I know I can speak for Eric and Rachel when I say we're all honored you chose to share something so personal with us and I look forward to meeting Santana because she's obviously a wonderful person."

She smiled at him as he said, "But now, Brittany, I have a big favor to ask you."

"Okay." Brittany nodded, "Sure."

"Can you teach me to waltz?"

"Waltz?" Brittany's face brightened as she shrugged, "Really? Sure, like in my sleep. That'd be fun."

Rachel was blushing, "Dad! You don't just ask someone something like that. It would be like asking me to give voice lessons."

"But Rach, you would give anyone a voice lesson anytime. I mean, I've totally seen you try when people didn't even ask."

Jacob and Eric did a very poor job of not laughing at this and because it was Brittany who'd said it and it was in a sense, she supposed not strictly untrue, Rachel only scowled.

**OOOO**

"Before you spill about the midget, can I just ask that we keep the whole emotional gag-factor down to a minimum?"

"That's what I love about you, S. You're a born romantic."

"Right. You dated Finn and you're gay. _That_ was the essence of romance."

"You slept with him."

"So? At least I wasn't crazy enough to date him. I fucked him. And that was about as interesting and took about as long as reading a matchbook cover."

"Like I said—a born romantic."

"Back to the dwarf."

"Can you stop with the mean names?"

"Hmmm. Let me think. No?"

Quinn lifted an eyebrow.

"Fine. Okay—how about this? Berry. I'll call her Berry because after all this time calling her Rachel would make me feel like I was French-kissing her or something and that's on your agenda—not mine."

"Not for the time being."

"Ooh. Really? The midg—Berry shot you down?"

"Completely. Right out of sky. Duck? Meet bazooka."

Santana nodded her head vigorously and didn't laugh but the glee was there in her eyes.

"Don't mind me. Laugh it up. Party time."

Santana held up both hands, "Okay. I'm sorry but that _is _funny. The HBIC Quinn Fabray gets 'talk to the hand, bitch' from Rachel Berry. I gotta hear this."

Quinn gave the girl an abbreviated version of her discussion with Rachel, leaving out the more personal things that Rachel had shared with her.

"Huh. So she's doing the whole lezbefriends thing?"

"No! I mean, not really. I mean, I know she's sincere about it—about wanting to be friends. She's just not into me like I'm into her right now."

"First thing's first? Yes she is. Totally into you. Has been. For years. After Britts gave me the 411 that you were all up in lurve with Berry back when we were twelve? It was like watching a TV show that never had any character development. Rinse and repeat. So I gotta say, I'm a little impressed. I would have thought Berry would have folded like a soup sandwich for you."

"Why? I've treated her like crap for ten years."

"Exactly. You'd think the second you let up, she'd be all over you like she was with Finn. Speaking of—they were a disgusting duo."

"I hated them together."

"Little did you know you just hated seeing his big ape paws all over her tiny fine self."

"That's the second time you've called her fine. I'm keeping score."

"So what? Now that it's all out on the table—sure. She's hot. Gotta love those legs. Nice little ass. And that mouth? I bet she could—"

"For God's sake shut up! Don't talk about her like that!"

"You're blushing, Q."

"I'm angry, S."

"No, you so aren't. You're thinking about what I'm saying. If I didn't already have the hottest girl on the planet, I'd give you very detailed plans about what I'd do with a girl like that. And just a news flash, Q? I know she's a virgin and all that shit but I can promise you she's going to be flame-thrower in bed."

"_Please_ stop it."

"Look at your face! Santana laughed heartily. "It's a tomato!"

"Jesus Christ."

"Uh uh. Don't call on the Lord while you're thinking what you're thinking about right now."

"I don't know why I talk to you."

"For the fun of it."

"This isn't funny."

Santana stared at Quinn's actual and obvious discomposure and suddenly stopped laughing. "Oh my God. You have to be kidding me. Do we seriously need to have the talk?"

"What talk?"

"I mean, you do understand how women have sex with each other, don't you?"

Quinn glared at her, "I've only known I'm gay for a week, S. Plus I was dealing with the fact I was in love with Rachel Berry which was like having a bowling ball drop from heaven into my high school bowl of cornflakes. So no, I can't say I've given the whole idea of sex much thought."

"Aw, man. I'm sorry, Q. I was just teasing you."

"I know. It's okay. Whatever. And I've certainly seen you and Brittany in enough compromising positions that I have an idea."

"Quinn, you've caught us making out but I promise you that you've never seen us in even remotely the compromising positions of actual sex."

"Let's just stop talking about the subject. _Please_."

"You want to Google it?"

"Oh my God. _No_. I don't want to Google lesbian sex. Why? Here are all the things you won't be doing with the girl you love. You won't be doing them now and maybe never. I'm not that masochistic."

Santana looked at Quinn and her face softened. "Aww. You really love her, don't you?"

Quinn nodded.

Santana patted her cast gently, "Okay. Again? I'm sorry for joking like that. I know you've only had one lousy sex experience with a year of craptastic consequences. But with Berry? Okay, for this? I'll call her Rachel. With Rachel, you don't need to worry. If it ever goes there and I'm 100% sure one day it will because you two are weirdly perfect for each other? Just love her. Sex is one thing but love's another."

Santana shook her head as if she were both trying to disbelieve and disavow herself of what she was going to say.

"You've had sex once and I know it probably hurt and made you feel like shit. So I guess I'm going to be real with you and tell you love isn't like that but that it's sort of scarier. But if you love her and just show her that, you don't have to worry about it. Just don't be afraid to talk to her while it's happening or ask her stuff or even laugh. Because all of that's normal and okay when you're loving someone. Sex with someone you love can be hot or super intense and serious or just fun and even funny, okay? So no worries, okay? Just be yourself and show her how you feel and you'll be fine."

Quinn covered Santana's hand with her own, "Why don't you ever let anyone else know how sweet you are?"

"Whatever. B knows. And you know. But if you tell people that, I'll cut you."

"Please. You know what? One day I think I'm going to dance at your wedding and I think there might be two brides."

Santana looked at her and nodded so slightly that Quinn almost thought she imagined it. "We'll see, Q. And no dancing if we can't keep you out of a cast. And if you keep up that 'tude with me, you'll be wearing one until we graduate."

**OOOO**

The basement. Room for dancing. Jacob wasn't terrific at it but loved it. Eric was pretty good at it but drew the line at waltzing. Brittany, Rachel was slightly astonished to find, was an incredibly exemplary dance teacher. She realized that in Glee, if any of the kids actually asked, Brittany would always help, but Mr. Shue never took the initiative to ask for them. She decided, as the club's captain she would change that the next day.

During this lesson, Rachel found out other pieces of information, a couple that surprised her and one that staggered her.

When she approached Jacob to begin the lesson, Brittany held her arms out and said, "Can I touch you?"

He smiled and said, "Of course."

Brittany laughed. "Sorry. I do volunteer dance classes at the children's shelter once a week and that's a rule. You have to always make sure kids know it's their choice if a big person touches them."

"I didn't know that you did that, Brittany."

The girl shrugged, "It's not a big deal, Rach. It's fun and it makes the kids happy. Every other weekend I clean pens at the animal shelter and get to pet the dogs and the cats. Volunteer stuff is so cool you can't even believe you get to do it for free."

Jacob said, "It's an honor to have you in our home, Brittany. Now let's see if you can work with someone with two left feet."

"You'll be okay. I'm a natural, Jacob. That's what Ms. Sokoll says."

Rachel's head popped up. "Who?"

"Ms. Sokoll."

Irena Sokoll was something of a mystery in Lima but a bit of a fixation for Rachel. The woman was a ballet dancer who'd danced for years—for the Bolshoi, for the New York City Ballet and was actually quite famous for a dancer, wealthy, single and childless but had retired and no one had ever discovered why, to Lima, Ohio. She was a pleasant recluse if you met her on the street, with her strong Russian accent, but still a recluse.

"You know Irena Sokoll?"

"Well, yeah. I mean she's been teaching me like since I was five."

"Brittany, she doesn't take students."

"No. She only teaches me and Mike."

Rachel shook her head. "Are you kidding me? You and Mike study with her?"

"Sure." Brittany squinted at Rachel. "You're the best singer I've ever known, Rach. Do you take voice lessons?"

"Of course."

"So? I'm probably as good a dancer as you are a singer. I mean, I can sing but you're a singer. And you can dance but I'm a dancer. Of course I take lessons. I mean, from other people too, but her mostly."

"I'm flabbergasted."

"I'm sorry. Is that bad for you?"

"No. It means I'm surprised."

"Oh. Me and Mike don't talk about it because it's, I don't know, what it is and she doesn't like to make a big deal about it."

"But you have a world class dance teacher."

Brittany shrugged, "She says we're world class dancers so she teaches us for free. What's totally cool is that maybe one day we'll all go to Julliard together."

Rachel's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?"

"Me and Mike are already pre-screened for an audition."

"You're 16. How?"

"Ms. Sokol told them so and she, like gives them tons of money or something."

"I need a minute," Rachel said before marching out of the room.

Brittany looked at Eric and Jacob. "Did I say something wrong?"

Eric rolled his eyes, "She's jealous, Brittany. She'll get over it."

And she did. It didn't take a minute. It took five before she reappeared and said, "That was childish of me, Brittany, and I should applaud your finding someone who so deeply appreciates your talent, as well as Mike's. It's a stroke of good fortune for you that you both richly deserve."

Brittany pulled her into another hug, "Rachel. We needed luck. You don't. Ready to see your dad waltz?"

It took Brittany twenty minutes to teach Jacob to waltz and after a few songs he was clearly dazzled by her.

"Jacob? Eric? You want to see something I choreographed that Rach can help with?"

"Completely," Jacob said.

"Rach? It might take 30 minutes. As Ms. Sokoll always says, 'Won't take long. You're a pro.'"

"Absolutely."

"Do you like the song "I Could Have Danced All Night?"

"Of course I do."

"I've worked on thoughts about it but I've always been too shy to show Mike and Ms. Sokoll. Since you know mostly the worst thing about me, I can show you guys, right?"

"I haven't heard anything bad about you yet today, Brittany."

Both of her fathers nodded their heads in agreement.

"You have Julie Andrews and Marni Nixon's version?"

"We do."

"Who do you want?"

"Julie."

"Okay." Brittany stood in front of her and said, "Can I touch you?"

"Please."

They cued the song up and Eric agree to do the back and forth with it.

Brittany smiled and took Rachel into her arms. "I'll teach you the choreography. But you need to feel me. I'll have you. I'm super strong for a girl and can lift you and guide you. I'm your lead and I won't let you fail or fall. This is where you get to not have to be the star for once. And that's sometimes better. Just be happy and dance."

Rachel was a trained dancer. But she wasn't Brittany. Rachel's fathers watched in awe as Brittany explained and moved their daughter through waltz movements and ballet lifts that Brittany made seem easy although they really weren't. They were fluid and beautiful, lyrical and completely expressed the emotion of the song.

Then finally, Brittany said. "Now, here we go, Rach. Play it, Eric. Sing to me, Rachel."

Rachel sang as they danced and both Eric and Jacob fought tears as they watched because it was beautiful. As beautiful as their daughter could be. She'd found an equal and they were two artists of different genres expressing themselves together. And when the music stopped Rachel looked up at Brittany as if she were seeing the sun for the first time.

"You're perfect, Brittany."

"You're perfect-er. And I so know that's not a word."

**OOOO**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**This chapter's short. I'm having technical difficulties. I've used Naya Rivera's self-described racial heritage in a description of Santana's. There are a few more LOTR references that require a cursory knowledge of that story to understand, as well. Sorry. Additionally, for any readers of my two other super-short Glee stories, there are teasing references to them but they're totally separate 'verses.**

**Thanks so much, all of you who do, for reading and reviewing. More tomorrow if I can kick ze computer into gear. And I will.**

**OOOO**

Santana stretched, "Okay, this has been a fun meeting of the great minds of WMHS and all but I needs to call my girl."

Quinn smiled as she said, "You're so whipped."

Santana shrugged as she pulled her phone from her bag. "Like you're not wondering what my baby was all code-red to talk your midget about?"

Quinn was completely anxious about it but said, "What's her name?'

"Oh right. Berry. Whatever."

"Speaking of? We haven't even talked about what to do about Rachel tomorrow."

"Please. What is there to talk about? Obvs. We walk with her and stick to her like white on rice between classes and eat lunch with her and shit. But we'll let Britts do all the heavy, dirty work like holding her hand and hugging her, because although I loves you muchly I'm so not macking on a midget and _you_ can't because she's all 'touch-me-not except on my terms' plus you're also little Ms. Caliente Crutchez. That's my Latina name for hot bitch on crutches, just so ya know."

She gently tapped Quinn's cast, "Just sayin', if Britts walks around with her and is all over her which I'm sort of knowing is totally going to happen and I'm already throwing up a little in my mouth about it right now? Errybody knows God better help anybody who fucks with our baby B. Am I right? Plan?"

Quinn nodded. "Plan. But question? Is white on rice a racial expression?"

"Racial?" Santana gaped at her, "Are you clinically insane?"

"What? No! I've just never heard the expression and I don't want to use it if it is."

Santana smacked her forehead with her hand, "Where the fuck have you _been_, Q? Oh right. Sorry. Planet Russell Fabray. Okay. Hello and no. It suggests closeness because rice is white. Or it alludes to propinquity if you wanna gets a little fancy."

"Actually, S, most rice is brown until it's stripped of its color and protein."

And just like that, the real Santana was back.

"Oh gosh! Thank you so much, Science Guy! I don't think you understand. The analogy is still apt although that wasn't my intention in using it. In case you haven't noticed, Britts and you are Caucasian but I'm two quarts Puerto Rican, one quart German and one quart African American. And Rachel? She's as quote-unquote _ethnic_ in actuality and appearance as I am. In fact, throughout history and even now she'd be considered by some people to be a woman of an ethnicity deserving death, not just a job as a maid. So don't start about race stuff with me. In the perfect world of some of the people on this charming planet, I'd only be fit for cleaning your toilets but Rachel? She'd be exterminated. And just so you know? You listening? Because you need to."

Quinn nodded.

"This is serious, Q, but it's two-way. Okay? I'm not one of those people of color who thinks just because you're white, you can't talk about race with me or sometimes be right about your opinions vis a vis racial issues. You should have your say because fair's fair. Seriously, all I expect is for you to listen to me with respect but I should come correct and you can tell me if and when I'm wrong."

She smirked and said, "And if, in that infinitesimal chance you're right and I'm wrong? I won't hate on you. I'll just kick a locker or a freshman or something. I know we don't ever talk about this shit because we've been colorblind together for so long. That was a real burn to me for you to ask if I was being racial about something. You understand that?"

Quinn nodded vehemently, "I'm so sorry. I just didn't know and I asked a stupid loaded question."

Santana patted Quinn's cast again, "We're good. It's just an expression and I _so_ was _not _saying white Britts is protecting brown Rachel. I'm saying nobody fucks with Britts because that's the 11th Commandment. And just so you know? It's not like I hate you or something 'cause you're white. I mean, it's weird that you're so fucking pale and blonde and shit, but my baby's like that too and she's even got blue eyes so I'm understanding it's congenital and a girl can't help it, can she? You know me. I'm a lover—not a hater."

Quinn held up both hands, "Message received. _Damn._ I've been getting hard-ball schooled all weekend—can't wait for school tomorrow."

Santana rolled her eyes, "I know right? Plus a broken foot. Sucks to be you," she said with a smile as she speed-dialed her phone, got a quick response and said, "Moshi moshi, baby. Doing okay?"

She listened for a few seconds and gave Quinn a thumbs up. "Uh huh."

"Really? That's cool. Teaching them to dance? Really? Waltzing? Huh. Why am I not surprised?"

Quinn flipped her off.

"I'm not making fun, B. You can totally rock a waltz…no, we're about done here. You ready to go? Okay. I'll be there in a few. Sayo." She punched the phone off.

"What's sayo?"

"I say sayo. She says nara. We've been watching way too much anime lately. She's obsessed. But the weirdest shit is, I swear to God, that girl is picking up Japanese so quick it's like she's a three year old kid or something. She can understand it even when I fuck up with the DVD and the subtitles are off. It's wild."

Santana blinked, obviously realizing how that had sounded. Quinn heard that, saw that but let it go and only said, "Good for her. So now she'll be tri-lingual, not just bisexual."

"Watch it."

"As you would say? Please. I know she can speak Spanish so she draws sombreros on her tests because she's bored."

"Right. Whatever. She's adorable."

"She is and I love her, too."

"I know that. Lucky you. If you didn't I'd seriously have to hurt you."

Quinn looked at Santana and her face changed. "Have you ever thought about that, S?"

"What?"

"That almost all of your violence is about her? Even hitting me. You want to be top dog for her."

"My violence?" Santana thought about it for a moment and repeated softly. "Top dog?"

Quinn stiffened for the reaction but found only softness in the other girl's eyes. "My violence _is_ about her because my entire life is about her. I've known that and I've _owned_ that, baby-doll, and suited up and fucking showed up for her for 13 years. That's why your little bullshit comment earlier pissed me off so much. You've been nice for what? A few _hours_ for that special someone you love? After battering and treating your little lamb like shit and making sure everyone around her treated her just as badly? I've protected my girl since way before you ever knew us and will until the day I die. So absolutely, I _am _violent about B and for B and yeah, I do want to be top dog because of her. I'd rather beat my way to the top or be beaten to a pulp than have anyone say even the first mean thing to her or about her. So who's the faithful sheepdog here? Who? _You_?"

Quinn took Santana's hand. "Obviously it's you. But San, listen to me, okay?"

Santana glared but nodded as Quinn continued, "I know that no one hurts her because of you and you'll have to admit also because of me. But…I also know…I know I'm only a white girl but I can occasionally be right. You said so. These days only _you_ hurt her. And you know why. You know what she wants."

Quinn instantly felt Santana grip her hand so tightly she thought she might need another x-ray but the girl almost instantly released it and said, "Fuck you. I am SO kicking a locker or a freshman tomorrow." But with that acknowledgment, she nodded before she said, "I haven't put my stickers on your cast yet, heifer."

"I've lost all of my baby weight, thank you."

"Whatever. You're still a cow on GP." Santana opened her bag and pulled out a sheet of stickers, "Just for you."

She peeled one off and placed a red devil's face right next to Brittany's duck at the top of the cast. And then she placed a pitchfork next to the duck on the top of her foot.

"See? Stars, ducks and devils. Now you can remember who your friends are. A duck, a devil and a hobbit."

Quinn grinned and said, "Perfect."

"And by the way, Britts is Legolas—not you, bitch."

Quinn's mouth dropped open and she found herself stammering…"Wha…no way…how the…"

Santana held up a hand, "Girl, please. That's how Britts knew about you and the midge. After we watched that movie together, you went to get some soda or some lame shit like that and she whispered to me, 'Quinn loves Frodo, but like in real life.' And I was all 'He's cute I guess but he's really short.' And then she said, 'No. _Rachel_ is totally Frodo and Q loves her but you can't tell her we know or I'll be really super crazy mad with you.'"

Quinn's only reply to that was, "Fuck."

"Yeah, I know right? Britts for President or something. But anyway. She's Legolas and I'm so totally badass Aragorn who beats the shit out of everybody and gets the hot girl."

"Who am I?"

"Obvs. Gollum? Love that ring? Jelly of that ring much, my precious?"

Quinn couldn't even argue about it and repeated, "Fuck."

"Truth hurts, sunshine. But I'm kidding, Galadriel. You're fated to be the blonde, beautiful princess in everybody you'll ever meet's story. You got born into it with your looks and your parents taught you to work it and that's fucked you up so much it's really, really hurt you."

"You're not that person, Q. You don't have to live everyone else's dream about you. Live your own." Santana gently lifted herself from beneath Quinn's legs and the couch and looked down into Quinn's eyes, "All you need to do is wake up."

She leaned down and kissed her very chastely on the lips. "Wake up, Quinn."

Quinn looked up into the dark eyes of the only and strangest Prince Charming she'd ever have.

"I'm trying, Santana.'

"I can see that. It's a good look for you."

**OOOO**

It was weird, Rachel thought. Seeing Santana on her doorstep. With Brittany and her fathers behind her. She'd literally never thought of Santana as small because she loomed so frighteningly large in her world. But both Quinn and Brittany had described her within 24 hours as tiny. She was wearing flats, skinny black jeans and a form-fitting black sweater that only accentuated how very petite she was. She was, Rachel saw in a flash, somewhat taller but actually truly smaller than she was.

"Mr. Berry, Mr. Berry, I'm Santana Lopez. Thank you for taking care of Q. I'm sure B has told you that we appreciate it."

They shook her hand and Jacob said, "You're welcome. Please call us Eric and Jacob. Will you join us? We were going to have some coffee."

At Brittany's violent nodding to say yes, she said, "That's very kind of you. I know my reputation precedes me so I'm obviously undeserving of but grateful for your hospitality."

That locution stunned Rachel although she'd always suspected Santana was secretly smart. She DID have a sixth sense!

Wow, both men thought as they nodded even as they regarded the girl in front of them. With their daughter and with Brittany, they saw young adults—but still children. With Quinn they saw the same, even when she chose her air of studied indifference. Santana was different. Her eyes were adult.

Santana stepped into the house with her bag and stared at Rachel, "Yeah. I know. That awkward moment when…and we can move on from here, one supposes."

She shifted from one foot to the other as she said to Rachel, "You're still Berry because I've been hating on you forever and heavy smokers? Berry's a nicotine patch. So Berry's the best I got." She went from this to, "Britts? I skipped home and brought you a sweatshirt to wear because you said you'd been dancing. So I knew you've been sweating. I didn't want you get all chill-pickle."

Brittany was in fact only wearing a long sleeved t-shirt although she'd brought a coat. "I'm okay, S."

"You always need to keep warm after exercise, B. You're an athlete. Remember what Papi told us about his horses."

Brittany nodded and told the Berrys, "San's _papi_ used to work at a stable when he was a _nino_ and he said when a racehorse stopped running you always had to walk him until he cooled off and if it was cold you put a blanket on him to make sure he was okay and I always thought that was super nice because it made me happy a horse had a special blanket."

"You're a racehorse, B. And I brought you a special blanket."

Brittany brightened immediately. "Really?"

"Serious up."

It was in fact the largest and oldest sweatshirt they had and had been trading forever. It was huge and had originally belonged to Brittany's father. They'd shared it all their lives but Santana had sprayed _Noein_ in tye-dye colors across it as a surprise because it was the name of Britt's favorite anime show.

"No way, San,"

"Way."

Brittany looked from the sweatshirt in her hands into Santana's eyes and said, "You make life….seem like _real _or something"

As they hugged, every Berry in the house looked away.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**I realize that the past few chapters have been Faberry lite. But I need to set up everyone's characters and to establish 'my' version of who these people are to each other. This will become very Faberry. But I write like I do and I think if you've got Q, you have to handle both S and B (and hey, I'm the writer and I love them). And even deal with Q's remaining parent. And I, frankly, wanted to give Rachel some parents who were the kind of support who'd explain why she's such a resilient and optimistic kid, despite everything. I know these chapters are often short but I don't write full-time, I want to give the best quality I can to you as readers and I want to update frequently. So there you go!**

**And my computer's giving me hell.**

**Thanks for reading and for your reviews. They really mean a lot to me.**

**OOOO**

After a beaming Brittany had pulled on her sweatshirt and they all walked into the kitchen, Rachel took the moment to ask, "How's Quinn doing?"

All of the Berry's looked at Santana for the answer so they couldn't miss the malicious glint in her eyes, "Worried about blondie, are we?"

"Be nice, San."

"I'm being nice, B"

"No, I mean make your face nice too."

Santana rolled her eyes but complied, "Q's fine. But she looked really tired when I was about to leave so me and her mom made her eat some crackers and gave her a pain pill and she's going to sleep watching some lame movie or other. She said to tell you she'd call you when she woke up. That's the report from the front. So where's this famous coffee? It's freezing outside and the only thing better would be cocoa."

Brittany rubbed Santana's left arm, "Are you cold San? Because I could totally let you wear my special horse blanket."

Santana smiled at her, "I'm not cold, B. I'm Latina—we're hot-blooded, remember?"

"Yeah. And, like totally hot."

"O-_kay_," Jacob said. "We can certainly make cocoa if anyone wants it. But I'll warn you, it's instant."

"Britts?"

"Cocoa, if it's no trouble."

"No trouble at all. I'll just put the kettle on and it should be ready in a minute. Santana, how do you like your coffee?"

She smiled, "A bit of cream or milk if you have it. If not, I can certainly deal with soy."

And the fact that Santana was smiling in her kitchen at her father made Rachel's voice acidic. "You can deal? Aren't you kind?"

Santana looked at her for a moment before replying, "No. I'm not kind. As everyone knows. I was simply acknowledging your dietary preferences and the fact there might not, in fact, be any dairy in your home. Which was, I believe, polite of me. Feeling just that little bit feisty enough on your home turf to be rude to a guest, short-stack? I mean, feel free—get yours back. Believe me, I can take whatever you throw."

Brittany stared at Santana and Rachel's fathers glared at Rachel.

Rachel felt a sudden and irrational urge to punch Santana's smug face and evidently it was obvious because the girl grinned, "You _so_ want to hit me right now, don't you, Berry?"

Her fathers were dismayed to hear her answer, "Yes."

Jacob said, firmly, "No one is hitting anyone. Rachel Berry? No matter what your relationship with Santana has been or may become, you are not allowed to be rude to a guest in our home."

Brittany chimed in, "I think I need to go throw up."

Santana jumped to her side, "What? Really, baby?"

"I'm not…my stomach's scared because you're all saying mean weird things."

Santana pulled her into a hug, "Don't be scared. We're just being us. It's like me and Q, right?"

"I don't know. I don't want Rachel to hit you because you'd be super mean and beat her up if she did."

Santana shot Rachel a venomous look and even the Berry men felt the full force of it, "You know I've never hit Berry and never would because she's your friend, isn't she?"

Brittany nodded, leaned down into Santana's shoulder and said, "But she wants to hit you and she can't because that would make me crazy sad."

"Berry's not hitting me, baby." She pulled away from their hug and looked into the girl's despondent face. "She just wants to and wanting to and not doing it are two different things. That's okay, alright?'

Brittany nodded.

"I've been mean to her a long, long time, right?"

Brittany nodded again.

"So it's weird for her to have me in her house. You understand?"

Another nod.

"You know what's funny and you'll believe it?"

"No."

"Q said something so mean to me today that I wanted to like put her in the hospital but I thought about Berry and you and how we're all trying to be friends. Or at least not enemies. Q totally deserved getting the shit smacked out of her but I didn't do it and it was only for Berry because you like her. Okay? And it was for you, of course, because everything's for you. Q can go to hell, generally."

Brittany grinned shyly, "You don't mean that."

"Sorta do."

"You don't."

"Okay maybe but only a little. Can I getta smile?"

Brittany smiled.

"Now how about some cocoa?"

Santana's looked at the rest of the people in the room and the emotion and meaning in her eyes said everything, 'This is over—move on and pretend it didn't just happen.'

But she said, "I apologize for my profanity, Jacob, Eric. Sometimes rough words get things done more quickly than soft. And I apologize for my presence in your home, Berry."

Rachel swallowed the ire she felt toward Santana and forced her focus on what Brittany had told her family about the girl. And what she'd just said. It was true. The girl had never lifted a finger to her. She was biting and vicious and cruel but she was as physically restrained with her as she'd never seen except with Brittany.

"On the contrary, Santana. I was rude. I apologize. And now I want my coffee."

"Like you need any."

"Was that a taunt?"

"No, that was just a tease, Berry." She looked at her with a 1000 watts of meaning, "Get used to it. Oh wait, I just had a long talk with Q—you already are. A tease I mean." She winked at Rachel and said, "Now for the coffee?"

Everyone ignored what she'd just said.

Santana added Eric's milk to her coffee and some to Brittany's cocoa. Santana looked from her coffee to the cocoa and said, "Hey Britts? Your cocoa looks slammin'. Can I have first taste?"

Brittany glanced at her fondly, "Sure."

Santana tasted it and said, "Yep. It's so good you should drink it, BB. You know I likes my coffee."

As they took their seats after Rachel watched this, seeing someone she'd fully experienced as a very, very mean girl ensuring for maybe the 20,000th time that the love of her life didn't burn herself? She thought about what it would be like—to be nearly obsessed with wanting to take care of another person. She'd never really had to take care of anyone except herself and her fathers took exceptional care of her. She was an only child and she wasn't so obtuse that she didn't know she was slightly self-absorbed.

What would it be like to have someone depending on you? To want to give someone yourself? No one except her parents to her knowledge had ever really reliably wanted her in their lives. It would be strange and troubling, she decided in an instant, to want to take care of someone. And she suddenly understood in a humbling brainwave that what Santana gave to Brittany was different than what she'd always longed for—just wanting to be wanted. She flashed on her obsession with Finn and Jesse. Wanting to be wanted was something. Giving that back was another. Santana really only wanted to take care of Brittany. She watched as Santana drank her coffee and played with Brittany's hair, watched B's soft smile as she drank her cocoa in a sweatshirt Santana had decorated to please her. Not because she wanted Brittany to want her. Only to please her and show her she was loved.

Rachel was impressed enough to make a peace gesture.

"Santana?"

"Berry?"

"While you're here, I have a favor to ask you."

"Sex is off the menu but sure. What?"

Rachel felt as if she'd been hit in the face, "May I remind you that you just said that in front of my parents?"

Santana shrugged, "They're like right here. And yeah, I just said that. But you felt all free and easy to get snarky _with me_ in front of your parents and I always gets mines back. You know that about me. And hey, I'm sure they're both just glad sex is off the menu. And B? I'm _so _just kidding about the whole sex thing. As if. But R? I won't have sex with you a la carte either. So to speak. Just to clarify. Whatcha want?"

Jacob looked as mortified as Rachel did. Brittany just stared at her best friend but Eric choked back a snicker.

"You're impossible, Santana Lopez."

"Those two words, Berry? That's exactly how my big non-fist-fight today with Q got started. But to the point? I'm teasing you. Again. Whatcha want," she said again as she took a sip of her coffee.

"I want you and Brittany to teach me how to Dougie."

Santana sprayed coffee over the table and covered her face, then collapsed in helpless laughter, and laughed and laughed until everyone in the room except Rachel began to laugh as well.

She finally spoke through tears, "I'm sorry—but that's the funniest shit I have ever heard in my entire life."

Rachel. "Why? Do you think I'm incapable of doing the Dougie? I assure you that Brittany taught me a quite complicated dance routine not an hour ago."

"No. It's just that it's you, Rachel. _You._ Saying 'teach me how to Dougie."

"You called me Rachel."

"And you said 'Teach me how to Dougie. We're even.'"

Santana gently pounded her head on the kitchen table as she continued to laugh then finally eased back into her chair and said as she took deep breaths, "Of course we can teach you how to Dougie, Rach."

Jacob clapped his hands and said, "Fantastic! I want to learn too!"

Eric looked so horrified at this that Santana began to whoop with laughter again.

**OOOO**

Back to the basement.

Santana flipped through her iPod and put it on the dock. "Okay, peeps. We'll show you first and I'll play an expurgated version of the song because I don't know about you Eric? But I'm totes part African-American and even though I don't give a shiz about what people say or sing about me? It hurts my B to hear the N-word too much."

Eric looked at Santana and nodded.

As the Cali Swag song started, the Berry men saw this was a different Brittany dancing. And Santana was a revelation.

She was obviously showing off to push it in Rachel's face but what she was was undeniable. A dancer with talent and heat. A heat Rachel didn't have and was too young to express.

They danced for minutes before Santana said, "Cut, Eric. That's how you do the Dougie, Rachel, Jake. Let's get up and workshop."

"I'm not sure about you but I'm feeling extraordinarily Jewish having watched this, Dad."

"Me too."

Santana shrugged, "Excuse my language but whatever. Pussies step to the left. Let's be real? I'd so fuck up _Hava Nagila_ at a Bar or Bat Mitzvah or wedding or something. Britts wouldn't even though she's like the def of _goy_ because she's like, completely perfect, but I _so _would. So let's do something we can all do."

They found to their surprise Santana was another of the most charming dance teachers they could have imagined. Eric just sat and worked sound and happily watched his husband and child dancing with two talented dancers. Santana was not Brittany but she was obviously and naturally a better dancer than his baby. But they were all laughing and enjoying it.

Once they'd all decided that Jacob and Rachel knew how to do the Dougie, San called for the final repeat and said, "Cue it from the top and get out here, brotha." She winked at Eric, "You know only me and you can really do the Dougie."

So they all did.

And when they'd finished they all did high fives. Something Santana felt happy to give B or Glee. Or R.

**OOOO**

It was exactly the time they finished that dance that Quinn woke up and called Rachel. Because Rachel had put her phone on maximum volume, it blistered the sudden silence of the basement. Rachel picked up her phone and, with an audience, only said, "Hi."

"Hi. They're all there and looking at you right?"

"Yes."

"Are they being nice because I don't need two legs to kick someone's ass."

Rachel smiled at the others in the room, "Santana and Brittany just taught me and dad to do the Dougie."

The eruption from the phone was so violent that Rachel held it away from her ear. As it subsided Rachel said, "I fail to see the humor in teaching a dance to a Glee club comrade and one of her fathers."

"No humor, sweetie. Just please, please put San on the phone."

Rachel gritted her teeth and held her phone out to Santana, who took it.

"Yes, O Captain, my Captain?"

Quinn said, "The fucking DOUGIE? No WAY! You're so fucking amazing I wanna die."

"She asked for it."

"Was it epic?"

"It was like for the ages. Me and B teaching Rachel and Jake. That's what? A mongrel and a white girl teaching two Jews to Dougie." She winked at them as she said, "Jelly much?"

"Completely. Love me?"

"You're making me say it three times? I think that's like a spell or something. I'm so not doing your bidding tomorrow because of this but yeah."

"You called her Rachel."

"After all that dancing, she deserves it. Promise you. It was insane."

"Awww. You're bonding. You know I love you back."

"Don't make me throw up."

"Give me Rachel."

"Gladly."

Santana sighed and handed the phone to Rachel. "She who must be heard if not obeyed. Your mileage may vary."

"Hi," Rachel said softly. "Are you okay? Is your foot okay?"

"I'm okay. But I love you, Rachel, and maybe in a little bit could you just come back by and see me? I miss you."

"Of course."

"How's the Dougie?"

"I believe at this point I'm proficient at it."

Quinn snickered.

"I fail to see why anyone thinks I can't do the Dougie. But I won't talk about it because you're making fun of me."

"I'm seriously not. But the best dancers you know are standing right by you, aren't they? Britts is the best I know and Mike's the second but sorry, sweets, San's the third. And San doesn't even train. Ever."

Rachel looked at Brittany who was indisputably a better dancer than she was. But as Quinn said even without training, Santana was as well. And she realized the smaller girl had never, ever really pointed out anything about her proficiency in dance. Ever. Or singing. Although she was quite proficient in Rachel's estimation.

"I'm perplexed."

"Welcome to my friends."

"I'll call you soon."

"Looking forward to it."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**Thanks for reading and for your reviews. They really mean a lot to me. To any of you I haven't responded to, I apologize. FF's outbox and/or my memory is/are playing tricks on me. This chapter is Brittana. Sorry, Faberry—Quinn and Rachel are actually going to be the main focus but I absolutely _do_ have a narrative point with this other relationship that will bolster the Q/B ship. Promise that. This has a little heavier element of Santana as a person, emotionally and religiously. You'll see why in the next chapter for Quinn. _Especially_ for Quinn. This is sort of a long story. Sorry!**

**In my 'verse, Duets happened and Bartie happened but Artie broke up with B and they didn't get back together.**

* * *

After quite congenial goodbyes, Brittany joined Santana in her car for the ride home but, after a long minute said, "That was fun I thought."

Santana glanced at Brittany and smiled, "It was. Her dads are really okay. Maybe hanging with the dwarf won't be the water-boarding I thought."

Brittany sighed, "You don't have to say you sort of liked her. I know you did."

Another long minute went by, "I know we don't really talk but do you want to talk about it, San?"

"What?"

"Why you wanted to hit Q. I mean, friends talk and we are besties."

Santana stared at the road in front of her and shrugged, "Nothing much to say. You know the drill. She was rude. I threatened her. She stepped off. We're all good."

"But you don't want to put her in the hospital unless it's about me. I mean usually. Just saying."

_Dammit_, Santana thought. The girl was always a mind reader when she least wanted her to be.

"It was a little about you, B, but she didn't say anything mean about you—just about me."

"Q doesn't say mean things about me, San. I know that. I guess you just don't want to talk. And that's normal."

No. Santana didn't want to talk. She wanted to pound her head on the steering wheel or hit the windshield with her fist. This was getting way, way too close. Quinn and Rachel? And Rachel being human? And Q just suddenly being…like all real and shit about her emotions? Santana had always been always been able to count on Q to help her keep things like talking about feelings—even feeling most of them—completely distant and unreal. Like they both had always liked them.

But she felt a sudden too scary distance from herself—recognized the fact that she wanted to be violent right this second was because she was scared to talk to Brittany and what had Q said? All her violence was about B. Even though the girl was right next to her and gentle and peaceful and wanted to talk.

Without allowing a second thought, she whipped the car into a church parking lot and turned off the engine.

A church? Not just any church. She couldn't believe it. St. Peter's, where she'd taken her first communion.

_Dios mio. _What a life.

Brittany didn't seem surprised. She just looked and said, "I remember this church—it's nice inside. You had a pretty dress that first communion day. Do you want to go in?"

"Maybe in a bit but really I just wanted to maybe talk like you said."

Brittany's face immediately fell, "Are you mad at me?"

"No. Not at all. I just want to talk about something our _papi_ told me."

Santana and Brittany considered each other's parents their own as well, as both pairs of adults considered them daughters.

Brittany looked into Santana's eyes and watched her flinch at the eye contact. "Will you be warm enough to talk in my coat, S? I have my horse blanket but I don't want you to get chill-pickle, either."

And Santana wanted to cry knowing that what the girl was asking was if it was okay. If it was really okay to talk and that they didn't have to.

She forced a smile. "I'm Latina, remember?"

Brittany shrugged and grinned, "And I'm just hot."

"True dat."

"What did our _papi_ say?"

"I'll tell you, okay, but please—it's sort of hard because it wasn't easy for me to hear and hard as hell for me to tell you. Okay?"

Brittany nodded.

"He said this to me last this past Wednesday when I came back from—"

"Puck's house. Yeah. You sexted me after. Whatever. Good times, right?"

"Brittany? Please."

Brittany shrugged. Her face was the complete cipher that Santana hated because it meant she was shutting down.

"Just listen. Here's what happened."

"Papi met me at the door. He'd been waiting up and it was like 11:30 and I was ape-shit nervous because hello? I'd had two beers and I was completely busted and hello whatever about whatever but he didn't look at me like I'm going to fuck you up, kid, right?"

Brittany only blinked and Santana felt her heart sink but continued.

"Imagine this, Britts? He pulled two beers from the fridge and gave me one and said, "You and me, _mi hija. _And yes, you're too young for another beer but you need one for what I'm going to tell you."

"So he took me out into the porch and we sat on the porch swing. And you know how he is. It was a little scary."

Brittany nodded, "Totally."

"He asked me whether I remembered what my _mami_ and _papi _meeting and getting together."

"_Here I was, Pedro Lopez at UCLA. Med-student at 19 and thought I owned the world and then Maria Torres? He made a gesture like a spear stabbing his chest—"It was like through my heart when I saw her the first time."_

"_You've told me that. She's told me that, too." _

"_Fine. But what we've never told you is the rest of the story because it's very adult. Look at me Santana?"_

"_Papi?"_

"_I won't embarrass you more than what I need to tell you right now. I tried to be a player, tried to keep her to the side. Okay? For two years. Two years in college when I loved her and she loved me and I just played and so she tried to play too but her heart wasn't in it and mine wasn't in it, either. Okay? We were in love. _

_And you know what? Your _abuela_? She took me to our stoop one night and told me what I'm telling you this very minute. _You_ have a woman who loves you and wants you. And you're playing with fire. Because what your _abuela _told me is that you think that this is forever. She told me 'that girl loves you completely but someone else will come along and show her love. And Maria is loyal. It won't matter that she loves you more—she'll be loyal.'"_

"'_And when that happens she'll want you more and always will but with her character? She won't choose you. She will always be your best friend but she'll be loyal to the someone she doesn't love as much as she loves you but who's willing to show he loves her first." _

"_When she told me that? I stepped up and asked your _mami_ to be mine. Because what the hell? I wasn't going to lose my woman. What are you going to do?"_

"_You don't care that Brittany's a woman?"_

_He took a hefty swig of beer, "Brittany's our daughter forever and you're being an asshole. And if you mess this up, she'll still be ours. Maybe not yours, but still ours."_

_She glared at him._

"_That's my girl."_

* * *

"So I guess the point of the story? I'd do anything. I guess what I want to ask, Britts, is for you to tell me what you want. Because I so don't know."

Brittany smiled. Really smiled. "I don't want to have sexy-times with anyone else. I don't want you to either. Is that okay?"

"Completely."

Brittany beamed. "But I don't mean we have to say we're all gay for each other because it's sort of like everyone knows that already."

"Britts?"

"Yes?"

"That means you don't get to kiss people. You know that, right?"

"I can't kiss Rach?"

"_Oy vey_. Yes. If you have to. But no tongue. I mean I don't even know why you'd—"

"You'd so have sex with her in like two minutes, San, if we weren't girlfriends and Q wouldn't try to kill you."

"Okay. Well, without you, probably yeah."

"Does that mean we're really girlfriends?"

"Yes."

"Really? Like we're dating?"

"Dating? Completely."

Brittany looked at Santana with such love that every expression she had for it was incomplete.

"San?"

"Britts?"

"Let's go to church."

"Want to?"

"Sure. I love your church."

"Okay. Let's hit it."

They walked in and Santana dipped her fingers in the holy water to the right of the entrance and crossed herself and genuflected as she entered. Brittany, who was not Catholic but had spent years with Santana in the church did the same.

The church was empty although there were candles burning at a few altars.

"I'll go light one for Quinn's foot."

"Good idea. Light one for the dwarf's ego."

"San!"

"Kidding."

They were only in the church for a few moments before a deep bass voice said, "Oh my goodness. Who's this who darkens our door?"

Santana laughed. "Only Satan, Father Andrew."

"You could only wish, Santana."

Brittany huffed out her match after lighting a candle and skipped over, "Father Andy!"

He hugged her, "Brittany! Look how you've grown—but I know—I always come see you two at your performances. You're both so wonderful!"

"You do? Why don't you stay?"

"Because I'm a priest and I give Santana a rash."

Brittany frowned. "No you don't. It's just…San?"

"B?"

"Could you…I mean would you talk to Father Andy?"

To be honest? Calling Father Andrew Andy was pure Brittany. The man had to be 85. But B and Father Andrew were buds and always had been since the moment they'd met 12 years earlier.

Santana was flummoxed. "What are you…do you think I _need_ to talk, B?"

Brittany nodded vehemently.

Father Andrew smiled at Santana, "And what Brittany says goes, right?"

Santana looked at him with a mixture of venom and amusement. "You know me well, Father."

"Brittany?"

"Father Andy?"

"Could you do something for me?"

"Yes, Father."

"While we speak in private, light a candle and pray for Santana to be less of an asshole than she wants to be right now."

Brittany stared at him. "I didn't know priests could say stuff like that."

"We shouldn't but Santana's special, isn't she?"

"Totally."

"We won't take long."

* * *

"I've missed you, Santana."

And Santana could only admit, "I've missed you but I'm not legit in our church anymore."

Andrew had gentle blue eyes but enormous gray eyebrows.

"Dude?"

Father Andrew was completely used to this belligerent sheep of his flock and rolled his eyes, "Yes?"

"Your eyebrows need serious-up pruning. Because they look like the bushes in the gardens at Versailles or something."

"I have a gizmo that I believe would help but it alarms me."

"Yeah. I'd spend money on those brows."

"Santana? It's been a long time since you've taken communion."

"How can I, Father?"

"Why? Because you haven't made confession?"

Father Andrew looked at her until she felt her skin crawling.

So he did it for her. "Your confession? You're always profane; you're violent; you fornicate without love or marriage. I actually can't imagine what you've gotten up to. But you'd confess all of that and in a second with a laugh but what keeps you away from communion is that you imagine the church tells you you're in love with someone our church couldn't accept, right?"

Santana swallowed her spit before a man she actually truly dearly respected and loved, "Yes."

"I could give you true church doctrinal teachings that would explain things to you differently and which are far more accepting of your love."

She sat and digested that. "Do you believe them?"

"I have taken my time with them over many years, Santana. But absolutely. I'm old but I'm not stupid. Look at me, child. _You_ are the reason I have been able to embrace a different doctrinal stance on this issue. God has clearly put his hand on you and Brittany. What is between you two has always been blessed in my eyes. What is between you emotionally or even physically is no sin to me and I've been your priest since your baptism. Confess whatever else is on your conscience, if you feel the need so that you can take communion and if this church means something to you."

Santana nodded and knelt, "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been four years since my last confession…"

After she'd made her confession.

"Five rosaries, my child."

"Father!"

"What? Too boring?"

"I mean, yeah, a little but like I guess no because whatever. I'll totally do it. But still. Harsh much?"

"Santana?"

"Father?"

"Let's go into the chapel and see what Brittany's doing for you."

"She's perfect. That's not the problem."

"Regardless? Tomorrow after school? Communion for you."

* * *

Brittany was actually asleep on a pew and when they woke her she mumbled, "Totally said ten Hail Marys really super quick because I thought you might need them and I remembered our classes, S. Father Andy? Is that good?"

"As Santana has reminded me, you are perfect. Let me walk you both to the door."

He put his hand in consecrated water and made the sign of the cross on both of their foreheads.

"Brittany, you're always welcome. Bring your girl to church. It means something to your Santana."

"I will. Every Sunday."

Santana said, "Whatever."

Father Andrew said, "You're such an jerk."

"This from a priest. You want those eyebrows trimmed or what? I'll come by tomorrow after school. And it'll be like a gardening job or something. Like hedges, dude."

He smiled. "God bless you and keep you both and I expect the pruning."

As they walked from the church to the car, Brittany asked, "So it's okay that I'm in love with you?"

"Yep. And I got the all-clear for being in love with you."

"Our parents will be so stoked. Can we have sex first before we tell them?"

"Is that like even a question?" Santana smiled.

Life was good.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**Thanks for reading and for your reviews. They really mean a lot to me. To any of you I haven't responded to, I apologize. I've been super busy, so I'm sorry this has taken so long. This is very short. I've been working with a lame computer and a poor connection from out of town. But I wanted to post something. More late tomorrow.**

**And yes, Faberry. Uncomfortable Fabray but Faberry.**

**OOOO**

Judy Fabray opened the door and smiled at Rachel, "We meet again."

"We do."

"Come in. Quinn's down in the den. Can I get you some tea or coffee?"

Rachel smiled, "No thank you. I've just enjoyed coffee with Brittany and Santana followed by a vigorous dance lesson so I can assure you that a sedative would be more appropriate for me at this point."

"Fresh out of those," Judy grinned, "Brittany and Santana? They're certainly making their rounds."

"I'm sure you know that if Quinn decides to befriend a person, the other two are part of the package deal."

"I do know that, actually. Santana. God bless her, but that's certainly a mixed blessing for you."

"Are there any other kinds of blessings? I'm only 16 so maybe I don't know."

Judy looked into the warm intelligent eyes of the girl in front of her and considered the question for a moment, "No. Not really. I've never seen or heard of one."

"I knew it!"

"Please don't take my word for it. Who am I? Go to someone who hasn't thrown her pregnant daughter out on the street."

Judy and Rachel stared at each other, each equally stunned that she'd said that.

"I apologize, Rachel. As you said, you're a child and I'm an adult. I shouldn't have burdened you with my regrets."

"It's okay. She's home now. It makes me feel good for both of you that you're sorry you hurt her so deeply but that you love her. That's all that matters."

"Is forgiveness that easy for you?"

"Yes. But I've had years of practice. "

"Rachel?"

"Yes?"

"My daughter? She's…hurt you in the past, hasn't she? I don't really know it but I know it. Don't worry. I won't speak to her of it or punish her. I just want to understand who you are to her."

They stood for moments and Judy watched Rachel as she clearly struggled with how to answer the question, "For ten years, your daughter has been the single greatest mixed blessing of my life. That's all I will say and I would appreciate your not pressing this issue with her. It's between us. Who I am to her now is a friend and I'm happy to be."

Judy nodded. "Then you'd better get down there, then. Feel free to shout up if you two need some soda or a snack."

Rachel smiled brightly at her, "I will. Thank you."

**OOOO**

When Rachel walked down the stairs, Quinn gazed up and tried to smile but failed, looking both stunned and horribly embarrassed or angry, if the blush on her cheeks was any indication.

Rachel saw the phone in her limp hand and immediately rushed to her side, "What's happened? What's wrong, Quinn?"

"Hi, Rach."

"I said what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry." Quinn shook her head to clear it. "I just had the single most embarrassing conversation in my entire life. And remember, I've lied to my ex-boyfriend about the paternity of a child. Many times. And had the whole 'I'm pregnant' thingy with my parents."

Rachel couldn't imagine where this could be coming from so she said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No! Do I have to talk about it? And with you? Yes."

"What happened?"

"Brittany happened."

"Brittany? Is she okay?"

"She's Brittany. She called to give me advice."

"Okay."

"And this, I have to explain, is on top of the sex advice Santana gave me during our little talk."

"Sex advice because…?"

"Because—she's her and she was actually really sweet about it and whatever—she knows you're not interested in me in that way if that's what you're worried about."

Rachel pulled Quinn into a hug that the girl collapsed into and then tightened. "I'm not worried about anything but you, Quinn. Tell me what's wrong."

The girl whispered into Rachel's shoulder, "It's terrible."

"I bet you I won't think it is."

"I bet you'll blush."

Rachel gently rocked her, "A red face never killed anyone, Quinn. Remember, I've worn cherry slushies."

"Don't make me feel worse, please."

"That wasn't my intent. I'm just saying being embarrassed about something or even humiliated by someone is what it is. I guess our peers would say 'it sucks' but there it is. You live through it. Talk to me, baby."

She pulled out of the hug and smiled encouragingly at Quinn.

Quinn took a deep breath. "Please don't laugh because as you said yesterday, I'm going to be vulnerable here."

"I won't. I promise."

"Britt called to tell me that she and San had decided to date each other exclusively."

Rachel clapped her hands in honest happiness, "Thank God. Good for them."

"I know right? They're not announcing it, by the way. They're just going to be as obviously gay for each other as they always are and just not date anyone else. Anyway, they went back to San's house and found their parents having some impromptu game of hearts or something and so San stayed and talked because Britt decided she needed to tell me something."

"Okay."

"San told Britt about the whole me and you thing. By the way, as an addendum to my humiliation, Britt knew when we were twelve about the whole Frodo thing and knew I loved you back then. And also just so you know, from San's point of view, Britt is Legalos and she's Aragorn and I'm Galadriel."

"I find it interesting that she conceded you'd be a beautiful princess."

"It was part of a larger point she was making about me, which was actually a kind one. She's very intelligent, Rachel. She's just emotionally inept, like me."

"I know that—but she's not with Brittany."

"You're wrong. Emotionally? _Especially _with Brittany but it sounds like she's coming around. Speaking of? Care to share what B felt a burning desire to rip off to your house to talk about?"

"She wanted to apologize for being mean to me, basically. And there were other things she needed to tell me but they were private."

"Private. That's what she said. Care to elucidate?"

"No, Quinn. I'll always keep her confidence just as I'll keep yours over what has so upset you."

Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose. "I_ so _don't want to talk about this but I know Britt might corner you and say something about it and I don't want you to be ambushed, you understand?"

Rachel nodded although she had no idea what she could possibly be getting herself into.

"Okay, so she called and told me all that stuff about her and S and great, right? And then she said she knew that you just wanted to be friends but that I wanted more and she said that would be really hard and that it might help when I had sexy times with myself if I thought about you."

Rachel blinked rapidly.

"I _know_. But that's not all. She said it'd probably be only fair to tell you that I was doing that because she always thought about S when she was having sexy times with herself and that S knew it and thought it was hot."

Rachel had absolutely no response to this.

"I know, Rachel! It was like, just please kill me now. Like when San was talking about sex and stuff. But I know Britt and know she could so corner you in the hallway and ask about this stuff and…yeah…just kill me now."

Rachel nodded and put her hand on Quinn's forearm. "Please let me preface this by saying, although I'm a little shocked by Brittany's, let's say, forward-thinking, I'm not offended by it at all."

Quinn tilted her head, "You're not?"

"Of course not. Why would I be?"

Rachel looked into Quinn's panicked eyes and put two and two together. She asked her very quietly, "I'll be vulnerable with you first. I masturbate, Quinn. Do you?"

Quinn visibly swallowed. "No."

"_Never_?"

"No."

"Okay. That's okay. Why don't you? Because of your religion?"

Quinn nodded.

Rachel looked at the anxious, frightened girl in front of her and smiled sadly.

"You're gay, right?"

Quinn nodded.

"Have you reconciled yourself and your religion to that? Do you think that's a sin?"

Quinn shook her head, "I've really thought and prayed about it since I saw what Brittany and Santana's relationship was becoming and I don't think it's a sin. Way before I understood about myself."

"And if, let's say, you fell in love and touched a woman to express your love for her, would you think that was a sin?"

"No."

"Then why can't you touch yourself and teach yourself what pleases you?"

"Because it would be just for me."

"What's wrong with that?"

Quinn chewed on her lower lip for a moment. "I don't know."

They sat with the sadness of that before Rachel said, "You've been on an airplane, right?"

Quinn nodded.

"What do they always tell you? Put the oxygen mask on your face first and then assist others."

Quinn rolled her eyes but her face brightened with relief, "Only you would make that analogy…so...you're really not mad?"

Rachel thought for a second before she answered, "That you might fantasize about me when you touch yourself? Of course not. I know you actually care about me and find me attractive. And Quinn? Your thoughts are private unless you wish to share them."

There was a long minute of silence.

"The closest I ever got to doing that to myself was when I was pregnant and my hormones were all over the place but I just knew God wouldn't want me to do that with a baby in the room, so to speak."

"Quinn, lawfully wedded heterosexual spouses have sex when the woman is pregnant."

"But that's different."

"How?"

"Because it's about love—not about pleasing yourself and I know I seem like I always please myself but I never do and I never have and I'm so tired of doing what I think people want me too and not doing what I want."

Rachel saw the dismay of realizing that in Quinn's face and touched her cheek.

"What do you want, baby?"

"You."

That answer hung in the air between them for a moment.

"I know. And you know that's not happening. At least for now. Friends first. But, as a friend? I say learn to please yourself. Touch yourself. It's natural and normal and you should do it not only for yourself but for the woman you'll share yourself with one day."

Quinn couldn't quite believe what she was hearing because she'd thought it was such a shocking horrible thing and Rachel was treating it as if it they were just talking about coffee. "Really, Rachel?"

"Really. And if it gives you any incentive, I've thought of you when I've done it and didn't even ask your permission. Sorry about that."

Quinn's eyes widened, "Apology completely accepted and no way."

"Way."

Quinn lifted an eyebrow, "Want to share any details?"

"Absolutely not," Rachel said as she put her arm around Quinn and rested her head on her chest.

They both sighed.

"Celibacy Club's gonna suck big fat ostrich eggs for us, Rach."

"You can say that again."

**OOOO**

**A/N Tomorrow? More Faberry and school!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**The 'net' chose a rotten time to go pear-shaped on my last chapter. Sorry any of you reading had fumed only to be disappointed over such a short chapter. I certainly fumed over it just to tell you not to worry because it was hardly interesting. But it's a great site, so I ain't mad at it.**

**Warning up? I have a bad wrist right now and it's **_**killing **_**me to type so I'm giving you another short chapter. Post while the FF iron is hot! **

**How about going to school? **

**OOOO**

When Rachel picked Quinn up the next morning and rushed to the door's opening to help the girl with her backpack, she did indeed feel exactly what they'd though she would—an unpleasant thrill of anxiety at the sight of that uniform.

Quinn saw it and smiled at her, "Still me, sweetheart. Beneath all this red and white armor, still me."

Rachel nodded curtly, "Yes. Of course. It's a knee-jerk reaction."

They loaded her crutches in the car and she continued, "My tone of voice in the hall with other students is going to be even worse for you. Just look to me if you're nervous and I promise you'll see we're fine."

As Quinn snapped herself into her seatbelt, she said, "You look very pretty today, Rachel."

The smaller girl looked down at her clothing—her black owl sweater, an argyle skirt and black flats.

Quinn smiled at her, "I know what you're doing, sweetheart. You're testing my affection with that outfit."

"It _is_ a sweater you've said you've wanted to burn on a few occasions."

"True, but not with you _in_ it, which is what Santana always says. Now you know I'd be perfectly happy to take that sweater off of you—just before I burned it."

"It's a perfectly nice sweater."

"It is. Yes. But with an owl on it."

Rachel started her car, "What, may I ask, is wrong with owls?"

"In the wild? Absolutely nothing. As symbols of wisdom throughout the ages in literary and oral tradition? Nothing. But a sweater owl? Just no. That said, you still look gorgeous today. And although it's argyle, I love your skirt, too."

Rachel sniffed, "You only love the length."

Quinn grinned as they pulled out of the driveway, "Bingo is your name-o."

**OOOO**

The four girls had decided to meet in front of Quinn's locker 20 minutes before first bell. Rachel found, as they crossed the parking lot, she didn't have to slow her pace at all for Quinn on crutches. It occurred to her that this skill was probably as much a result of the girl never wanting to appear weak as having used them many times before.

As Rachel opened the door for Quinn, the girl winked at her but as they entered the hallway, her face and posture changed. The students who passed them, before they averted their eyes, were noticeably surprised that not only was Quinn on crutches but that Rachel Berry was walking with her.

Rachel had never walked beside Quinn and she felt a bit nauseated watching the reactions of others to the girl, reactions she knew only too well. Fear, anxiety and insecurity. Almost visibly hoping if they just didn't, please God please, catch her eye, her attention? Maybe they'd be okay.

There was a lull in the hall traffic even as Quinn could feel Rachel tensing by her side. She didn't stop moving but she whispered while still looking forward, "Lord of the Flies, Rachel. Speaking of? Incoming. Red-haired sophomore boy in blue sweater at 2 o'clock. He'll look at me and he'll be happy I'm hurt before he turns his eyes. Watch for it but don't be obvious."

Rachel did. She didn't know his name but vaguely recognized him. He was a fresh-faced redhead and she only glanced from the corner of her eye as they approached and Quinn was right. In a flash, she saw a small, sinister smile bearing what seemed to her a gleeful malevolence toward Quinn's plight before he turned toward his locker. Rachel was utterly stunned, knowing she'd never felt anything like that _from_ Quinn or _toward_ Quinn approximating the expression she'd just seen.

"True discipline, Rachel," Quinn whispered as they moved forward, "is for people like that. You think I don't see them. They think I don't see them but I do. If you think that boy would treat you well if Santana and I didn't bend him or crush him to our wills, you'd be wrong. And there are so many of them, worse than us, at this school." She glanced at Rachel as they walked and although nothing about her face or attitude changed, she winked again, "Starting to understand, Frodo?"

Rachel met her eyes and nodded. She had a lot to learn.

**OOOO**

Brittany and Santana were standing by Quinn's locker as they approached from behind them.

Quinn said, "If it isn't the glitter twins."

Brittany wheeled around and said, "Q! Rachel!"

Santana turned and before she could say a word, Brittany jumped to Rachel's side and said, "Oh wow! I've always loved that sweater!"

Quinn almost cackled at the look on Santana's face because Brittany had instantly cut off criticism of the sweater S so obviously wanted to give. She only said, "Oh yeah, Berry. Britts is right. Hands up for the sartorial avian tribute."

"Don't be mean, San."

Rachel put her arm around Brittany's waist and the girl happily hugged her.

"That wasn't mean, Brittany, although it was snarky and she's showing her intelligence and vocabulary which can't be good for her image."

Santana glowered at her but shrugged, "_Yeah_? Well, whatever."

"There. Now _that's you_. Much better."

Santana closed her eyes, and kept them closed and seemed to be counting to 2000 as she clenched her fists. Quinn reached over a crutch to put a gentle but restraining hand on the Santana's shoulder. Brittany jerked at Rachel's waist with one hand and when Rachel looked into her eyes and into Quinn's, everything about their expressions said she'd said something very, very wrong.

She hastened to apologize and raised her voice. "Santana? I'm very sorry. Please let me explain."

Santana opened her eyes and they were not the semi-friendly eyes she'd met. They were cold.

Rachel immediately lowered her voice, "You have to understand I'm walking into enemy camp here. You and Quinn have always been enemies to me. I'm not used to fighting. I'm only used to surviving you and moving around you. So I'm really, really frightened and what would you do if you found yourself among enemies of superior force who'd beaten you for years and still easily could? Who were suddenly seemingly your friends?"

Santana looked into the girl's eyes, which were pleading, anxious and frightened and thought about the question. Which was actually reasonable. What would she do in Rachel's place? She really thought about it, which took her all of three seconds, "I'd trust them only to a point, Berry, keep my guard up completely and I'd totally talk shit to bluster my way through whatever or whoever scared me."

Rachel nodded vigorously. "You understand me, then. That's all I was doing. I'm sorry."

Santana nodded. Brittany loosened her hold on Rachel's waist and Quinn squeezed Santana's shoulder before releasing it.

But when Santana raised a hand toward Rachel, she was pleased to see the girl didn't flinch, although both Quinn and Brittany did.

"Oh please. Step the fuck off. Even Berry knows I'd never hit her."

Rachel nodded as the two blondes backed off.

Santana pulled Rachel into the bathroom but Brittany kept Quinn from following. Quinn implicitly trusted Brittany's understanding of the volatile girl even before she said, "She won't hurt Rach. Q. Promise."

Santana put a gentle hand on Rachel's neck as they closed the bathroom door. "Okay, sunshine—and get the reference? Me and Q and my baby have talked about it. It's going like this. You're _us_ now. And Britts is point-man. We'll tail you as much as we can but you'll keep close to B, primarily. We have more classes with you but she's, between classes, actually the scariest person at school, symbolically, because nobody hurts our B. Got me?"

"Absolutely. And I have a detailed Power Point so that we can take optimal advantage of letting people know we now like each—"

Santana pulled away and said, "Hello? We both know you _love_ Brittany and you _love_ Quinn and they love you. That's enough for me. Because _like_ isn't good enough for the two people I love the most in this world. Do you understand that, Little Dougie?

Rachel stared into Santana's eyes and realized this was not only a directive but a also a nickname, not a taunt. "Yes."

"So? You're going to take your Power Point and shove it up your ass except for the part where you have the Gleeks help Q in the classes you're not in and you're walking my baby to every class she's in that's reasonable and I'll reverse it for Q. Got me, Little Dougie? That way you'll be covered and Q will be, too."

"That's a good plan and not just because of the whole intimidation part of your side of the equation."

Santana smiled at Rachel, "Somehow I knew you'd see it that way."

"I'm nothing if not accommodating."

"You're the least accommodating person I've ever met in my entire life, Rachel."

"Rachel? Did I hear my name?"

"Yeah. Why not? "_I think we're alone now_," Santana faux-sang.

Rachel looked at the girl with bewildered near-fondness and said "Yes we are, Santana Lopez. Nice to meet you. I'm Rachel Berry."

She held her hand out and Santana smirked as she shook it and said, "You're on probation now, LD."

Rachel stood straighter and brightened immeasurably. "I really have a nickname that consists of just letters?"

"Oh my God. What have I wrought? Sure, Rach."

"Don't be sardonic. It's a rite of passage for me, S."

"Uh, B and Q get to call me S—not you."

"But if I'm LD what's wrong with that?"

"You haven't earned it."

Rachel stared at Santana. "Name one person who's lived through more crap than you've thrown at me. Name one person you ever could hurt as much as you have me in the time you still have available in high school."

"Point taken. But in school call Quinn Quinn and call Brittany Brittany or Britt. Otherwise it's dissing them. And I can't have that. It's sort of weird the whole nickname thing that goes on but we understand when and where."

"Fine. I don't understand it but I respectfully request your explaining it if I mess up and not beating me into it."

"I can only try, Rachel."

The look in her eyes reminded Rachel of a movie, "Oh! Ms. Congeniality!" She sang smugly, "_You called me Rachel; you think I'm pretty_."

Santana got the joke, choked back a laugh and sang, "_I called you Rachel; I can still kill you_."

"_Fine._ You're such a kill-joy, Santana."

"Sure am. But some people find that hot."

Rachel shook her head but grinned as they heard the bell.

Santana pushed Rachel's nose with her index finger, "Take care of Q the first two periods or I swear I'll kick your super-fine ass back to the Jewish Owl Scottish clan you belong to."

"Whatever."

"Good answer, short-stack."

"I'm a quick study."

"Yeah, when Q's whining," Santana smirked, "I've told her you will be. Maybe one day."

To her own complete surprise, Rachel grabbed the girl by her uniform with both hands, slammed her against the bathroom wall and hissed into her face, "Don't _ever_ make fun of Quinn's feelings. Not to her. Not to me. _Ever_. Do you hear me?"

Santana only nodded and said quite evenly, "I do. Good on you for sticking up for her. But just know it's only because that was all sorts of hot, Rachel, that I'm not kicking your fucking ass for what you just did."

Rachel lifted her hands in frightened astonishment at her actions, at Santana's complete lack of reprisal and said, "Actually, I think I'm going to throw up now."

"Yeah, the first time I kicked ass was like that, too. Take deep breaths and get to class. You'll be fine."

**OOOO**

The first bell was technically for a short homeroom where roll-call was tallied for the day. Mercedes, Kurt, Tina and Artie were the only Glee members in the class.

Mercedes and Kurt had spent the weekend in nearly orgiastic gossip about what might be going on with Rachel and Quinn and they'd been waiting with baited breath to see them together again. Of course, the rest of the class was surprised by the fact Quinn was on crutches as she described the accident to their teacher. They were more surprised that Rachel pulled a desk around, explaining to the teacher and the class, "She has to keep her leg elevated for the next two weeks." She helped Quinn place her leg on the desk chair and beamed at the teacher as she took a seat. "All ready now!"

Tina and Artie saw only the HBIC with Rachel very oddly in attendance. Mercedes and Kurt saw something still different between them. Finally, something to make school interesting!

**OOOO**

Their first class was AP English, which they again took with Tina, Artie, Mercedes, Kurt and added Mike and Sam to the mix.

Rachel repeated her performance, helping Quinn with elevating her leg once the girl had explained her condition to the teacher.

At this point, Tina and Artie thought perhaps Quinn had either somehow enslaved Rachel or the small girl had finally succumbed to Stockholm syndrome.

At this point, Mike only thought it was sweet they were getting along.

At this point, Mercedes and Kurt decided the love connection was on.

At this point, Sam was completely perplexed. Quinn had been so furious about his texting Rachel about some stupid sheet music and had broken up with him and not a week later here they were all buddy buddy.

He scarcely heard a word the teacher said as he watched Quinn and Rachel. And then he happened to glance at Mercedes and Kurt who seemed to be paying more attention to the two girls than he was. He focused his attention on them and the reactions they were throwing to each other non-verbally but which were about as subtle as bottle rockets with cherry bomb chasers.

He thought. And watched. And thought. And then…

_Oh. _

_Okay._

_Quinn and Rachel._

_Okay._

_Wow._

He nodded to himself and bit the inside of his cheek. She could have just told him. It took him only seconds before he snorted at that thought—with disbelief at his immediate lack of understanding. She was so beautiful and sweet and heart-broken. He'd thought it was about the baby because that's what she'd said and maybe it still was to a degree but where were they? AP English. Her poor foot could be a metaphor for her heart, maybe? Or whatever—something like that? If it was what he was thinking, she was hurting for a lot more reasons than he'd imagined, and reasons that would be really hard and more serious than he'd ever faced. Maybe she couldn't have told him, even if she'd wanted to. His looked at her and his heart swelled with sadness for her.

Even if it were what he thought, he'd be damned if he'd tell anyone else.

After class, he leapt up and gave Quinn his arm to help her to her feet. She was polite enough to accept.

He smiled at her, "Sorry you busted your foot, Quinn, but I'm glad Rach is helping you out. Let me know if you need anything. You know—just as friends, I mean."

Rachel froze but Quinn didn't, "Thank you, Sam. I will. I appreciate it."

"I mean it, Quinn. Anything you need. You got it. I'm not mad at all. Disappointed sure—but that happens, right? We're in high school so—you know, it's all good. I'm not hoping for anything but staying friends, okay?"

She smiled genuinely at him because she genuinely liked him. "Absolutely."

"How about this? I'll do the desk thingy next period and Rach can carry your bag and she can help you set your poor paw up on it, okay?"

He smiled at Rachel and she saw that he was being sweet, sincere and completely nice and even as she smiled at him, she still felt what she knew was an irrational desire to stab him.

**A/N. Okay, peeps. That's all I can do today with my wounded paw. Sorry but more tomorrow. Reading always appreciated. Reviews very much appreciated!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**More school? Thank you, everyone, for your reading and reviews. And for your concern for my wrist which is getting better. Also, I still laughingly reference the 11****th**** Commandment in Lima, Ohio that I established in another throw-away story. **

**OOOO**

It was the same procedure for AP history. After Quinn spoke to the teacher, as Sam had promised, he'd dutifully pulled a desk up so that Rachel could help place Quinn's leg on the seat. And as Sam did this, smiled at her and gave her his arm to lower her into her seat. Quinn watched Rachel with amusement and a tiny, fluttery bit of hopefulness. Rachel was jealous. As only Rachel Berry could be—in a way the girl probably thought was inconspicuous but was actually a big Broadway sign.

Quinn was completely thrilled.

She looked around the room after she was seated. Sam only nodded and grinned, as if in complete complicity. She nodded back at him. What a good guy. Artie and Tina were obviously wondering what was going on but Mercedes and Kurt were throwing their own Broadway signs that were going to be trouble if not handled.

**OOOO**

As they left history, Santana and Brittany met them in the hall, "Hey losers."

"Whatever."

"Oh my goodness. What a clever rejoinder, Q."

"You're such a bitch, S. Not to mention a show-off"

"True dat and you know you love it. Errybody okay so far?"

"No. Mercedes and Kurt. Deal with them. _Now._"

"Sup with them?"

"Acting all knowing in neon."

"Gotcha. On it like a rocket."

As she left, she spun, pointed her index fingers and said to Rachel, "This one's for you."

"Don't hurt them!"

Santana stopped in her tracks and stared. "Did you just imply I'd even take the time for something so lame? You have friends now. Get used to it."

**OOOO**

"Hey Chocolate? Hey Milk?"

Mercedes and Kurt looked up from their gossip to the one person, beside Quinn, they feared the most.

"Yes," Kurt said. It was only one word but that was an answer.

"Whatcha talkin' bout? Because I know it can't be about Q."

"Of course not," Kurt replied.

"You know what? I'm really glad about that. Because me and Q? We're getting a little static in our radar telling us you need a new topic of conversation. Find one."

Mercedes weighed the possible consequences, juice versus damage, and bolstered the enormous courage it took to say, "We were talking about Rachel."

"Gotcha. Right. One word about that. _Don't_. The hobbit's off the grid. Understood?"

"Completely," Mercedes said.

"Thought so."

As Santana walked away, Kurt and Mercedes high-fived each other. They'd keep their mouths shut but CONFIRMATION!

Even as they were gloating behind her, Santana did a face palm. Obvious much?

**OOOO**

The next class was independent study for juniors and Santana and Quinn went one way, Rachel and Brittany another.

As they walked down the hall, Carrie Greenstreet stopped Brittany to ask a question. Rachel smiled and said, "You guys do cheer talk. I need a book from my locker."

Brittany nodded.

45 seconds later, it happened really quickly. Like it always did.

"Eye spy a…dwarf!"

Rachel turned to face lime and Karofsky. Her least favorite flavor, least favorite bully.

And so? Bitch-slapped by an iceberg.

Unlike any other time she'd been slushied, Rachel faced a different aftermath and had to literally throw herself on Brittany, who'd hurtled herself toward Karofsky and was screaming in a way she'd never heard. Brittany never raised her voice, except to cheer. "GET OFF ME, LET ME GO RACH! SANTANA? SAN! HELP ME!"

The other girls were only really three-quarter of a hall's length away but when Santana heard that voice, she bolted from Quinn's side like she'd been shot from a gun.

She couldn't believe her eyes when she arrived. Karofsky was standing with his empty cup looking sort of stunned and frozen in place as Rachel unskillfully but gamely tried to hold the much stronger girl from reaching him. Once Santana appeared, Brittany relaxed in Rachel's arms. "San—he hurt Rach! I didn't help her enough."

Rachel shook her gently in her arms and said, "It's okay sweetie. I'm used to it."

Rachel was covered in lime slushy and Brittany was slimed with lime slushy and, as Santana looked at both of them, she felt completely disgusted and happy that life had taught Rachel to accept it and Brittany not to. And she felt a white-hot anger she hadn't felt in a long, long time. She turned and everything about her body language said one thing to Rachel, who spoke loudly and firmly, "Santana Lopez?"

"What?"

"You are NOT going to do anything to get suspended or expelled. Brittany needs you…and…I need you. Do you hear me?"

Knowing Rachel was right made Santana feel such a renewed sense of fury that her hands literally twitched but she answered, "I hear you."

Quinn finally caught up and surveyed the scene with a dismay that made her eyes well with tears.

Rachel met those eyes and said coldly, "Don't you _dare_. You don't get to laugh last week and cry this one, Quinn. I rather you laugh than pity me because I'm bigger than this childishness you've put me through."

With that, Brittany began to sob, turned and folded Rachel into a ferocious hug. Santana had never seen Quinn's face more pale.

Santana pointed a finger at Karofsky. "You. Stay."

"Rachel?"

Rachel pulled her face from where it was buried in Brittany's uniform. "Yes?"

"You have your slushy emergency clothes thingy, right?"

"Yes."

"Get it and you and Britts can take a shower in the Cheerio locker room. She has an extra uniform there. Me and Q will catch up once we do a little clean-up here."

"No violence."

"No _more_ violence, you mean?" It had suddenly hit Santana like the old proverbial ton of bricks. It wasn't funny—it was violence. "You've already been physically assaulted. How many times now? I mean, I know you count. You're freaky compulsive like that."

Rachel nodded, "This makes the 158th slushy in high school and the 79th time for David."

"Gotcha. You guys get showered up." She crossed to Brittany and wiped her tears, "Everything's okay, Britts. Rachel's okay. Aren't you, Rachel?"

Rachel smiled up at Brittany, who looked terribly sad, guilty and frightened. "I'm fine. I just don't like lime, Brittany. Let's go get cleaned up, okay?"

"I'm sorry I didn't help."

"You've always helped." Rachel looked from Santana to Quinn and back to the tear-streaked face in front of her, "You're the one person who's never laughed at me when this happens."

Santana felt her stomach turn again. Brittany was anguished and crying with good reason. She was part and parcel of the reason her baby was crying. Santana pulled Rachel into a fierce full body hug. "This will never happen to you again," she whispered.

Her uniform was all kinds of green when she released her and when she looked down at it, she said, "It suits me. I deserve it. Give Quinn a hug too."

Quinn waited for Rachel to make the decision, looked into her sad brown eyes and then found herself enveloped in tightest hug she'd ever had in her life.

As she released her, Quinn wiped the slushy from the girl's cheeks and felt both the affection and a renewed understanding of the distance in the girl's eyes. "Shower time now. Talk later."

Rachel nodded even as Brittany spoke to Karofsky. "I'm not changing my uniform. I'm wearing lime all day. And I think Q and S are too. It was super dumb of you to slushy the top three cheerleaders in school. I mean, Coach Sylvester's going to completely lose it when she sees our uniforms. And it's all going to be on you."

He looked completely unmanned by that even as Brittany continued, "What's the 11th Commandment at WMHS?"

He gulped before half whispering, "Nobody hurts Brittany."

"Right. But you did. Look at me. I'm all dirty and you made me cry and it's only Rachel keeping Quinn and especially San from doing super crazy mean things to you right now. Learn your lesson. Slushy Rachel again and she might not let them end you but I will because I can."

He tried to bluster through sneering at her because they'd drawn an audience.

Brittany suddenly did a kick that put her right foot next to the boy's face and she tapped his cheek with it gently once before instantly withdrawing it. It was so lightening fast that he was too stunned to do anything but flinch. "I'm a way better athlete than you are. You're stronger than me by miles but I could totally kick your face in before you could do anything to me. If you hurt Rachel again, I will hurt you and not in a fun times way. Promise."

"Rach? Time for a shower."

Rachel felt bold enough with the company she was keeping to wipe her face and then smear her hands over Karofsky's shirt, "There's enough to go around, big guy."

**OOOO**

Rachel held her bag and felt completely off in the confines of the Cheerio's space.

"It's too weird, Brittany."

"No it's not. Nobody will come in. I locked the door. Just get naked. I won't look."

"You can look. Well—I don't mean you should—I mean I don't know, I've just never undressed in front of anyone, sort of, before."

"Not even in gym?"

"No. Kids say enough things about me already without giving them more ammunition."

"Do you need me to help you?"

Rachel tilted her head and had to grin, "Help me? Wouldn't that be a little sexy-times?"

Brittany grinned back at her. "For you, maybe? Not for me. I mean, I see girls naked all the time. Some are pretty and everything but the only girl I feel stuff for is S so I mean, it's no big deal. Trust me. Take off your clothes."

"That's what she said."

Brittany smiled at that as Rachel undressed completely. Brittany looked her over. "You have a really, really pretty body, Rach. Get your shower before San and Q get here because I sort of know they'd have more to say than me."

As Rachel turned on the water, curiosity made her decide to go for it. It was a day of firsts. "What would Santana and Quinn say?"

Brittany smiled and raised her voice above the sound of the water, "Well, I mean, actually Quinn wouldn't say anything. She'd just get really red and have that look on her face she gets when she's thinking stuff she thinks she shouldn't which is like a super lot for her. San would probably say something like, "If I didn't have my baby, you could back that ass right up into my bed and I can promise I'd do it right."

Rachel laughed because Brittany sounded uncannily like her girlfriend and because, although it was vulgar and about her, it was so Santana that it made things seem a little normal in what were continuing to be the most abnormal few days of her life.

**OOOO**

Quinn didn't even know what to say as Brittany and Rachel threaded through the sizable crowd that had gathered and walked down the hall. She looked at Santana who looked similarly pole-axed but recognized that she needed to take the lead, "I think Britts sort of summed it up for me and the HBIC. You hurt Rachel Berry? It's on. I mean, like _on._ Go light your beacon fires, people, and let everyone know. Hurt our hobbit? We will find you and hurt you right back. Q's already broken her foot on one loser but she's got another and I can promise you I will break my foot _off _on anyone who hurts Britts or the hobbit."

Quinn was grateful for the moments it took to compose herself before saying to Karofsky, "You made Brittany cry and you assaulted my friend. And for that? Your high school life will now be harder than Rachel's. I can do that. In fact, I'm promising you that what I'll tell Coach will mean it's starting tomorrow. Bring a change of clothes and a new attitude every day or it will go on until you graduate, that is if you can even manage the class work to accomplish that, you clueless, pathetic, moronic loser. Do you understand me?"

He ducked his head, "Yes." Even though she hated what he'd done, Quinn hated embarrassing him, hated hurting him, hated the fear in his eyes. Hated all of what she was to the school. She took a deep breath.

Quinn looked into the frightened eyes of the crowd around them and said, "You're all fair game to me and you know it. Hands off Brittany. Hands off Rachel. Actually? Hands off everyone in Glee because if you don't obey? Santana and I won't be nice. Not that we ever have been, now that I think about it, have we?"

Santana shrugged, "It's happened like a couple of times on Groundhog day or something, but no."

Quinn smiled but didn't feel happy. "Let's get out of here."

As they walked down the hall, Santana said, "Sorry about the whole breaking foot on loser thing but it was all extemporaneous and shit. In legal terms, I think it's not technically truthfully but could be termed an 'excited utterance.'"

"Oh my God, you're such a nerd."

"Shhhhh!"

As they walked, Quinn knew that Santana was feeling what she was feeling and was keeping it light. They were the necessary monsters of WMHS but it didn't feel good to stare it in the face. Which was, perhaps, why—although they continued to speak, they didn't meet each other's eyes.

**A/N Wrist said stop! I shoplifted 'bitch slapped by an iceberg' from Chris Colfer's description of it. Evidently it really sort of hurts which is why they do them room temp now. I truly love me some Lea but is it evil that it amuses me that she got the ice ones until a few other people said 'uh, she's not kidding, this actually does REALLY suck.'**

**If a diva cries wolf, who listens… **


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**More school? Thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing—the only reason I write, beside the fact it's fun. Wrist is much better now. Go Team rest, ice, compression, elevation. **

**On the AU tip? Some references will place this after certain episodes but remember I play fast and loose with canon. **

**This has some Faberry but a lot more Gleek stuff. Hey, they're at school! And warning up for a little more somewhat graphic sex talk, if you're sensitive to it. I don't imagine Santana could resist Quinn's inability to deal with it (in my story at least).**

**BTW? On a nerd note? I **_**do**_** know the word should be stomp instead of stamp when Rachel's mad. I, however, love the sound of the soft 'a' for such a little person that I decided that when you know the rules sometimes you get to break them. **

* * *

The owl might be toast, so to speak. Rachel sighed as she folded her sweater and put it in the plastic bag she always carried. He'd been a trooper but for some reason the cherry and grape slushies seemed to be easier to spot-remove stains from than the lime. Perhaps she and her fathers could write letters to the ACLU about this issue. She wasn't actually quite sure how this would fall under their purview but she'd never failed yet.

Her mind skipped to what she'd heard Brittany say to David and tried not to imagine what Santana and Quinn had said in her absence. Something ominous, certainly and certainly not what she wanted.

As she opened her bag, she saw that for the emergency bag she'd packed a sweater with a pony on it and an even shorter argyle skirt. That would teach Quinn Fabray!

* * *

Even as she finished dressing herself, she heard a knocking on the dressing room door.

"Are you dressed, Rach?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll let them in."

When Quinn saw the sweater and the skirt she beamed at Rachel, "It just gets better and better."

Santana rolled her eyes but said, "Yeah, yeah. My Little Pony. Who hasn't thought that about you, Frodo?"

Quinn forced herself not to laugh at the look of outrage on Rachel's face as she stamped her foot. "I am_ not _a pony!"

"No," Santana said, "Like really? You're sort of a pony."

"Yeah. Totally," Brittany agreed.

"If all you're going to do is insult me, I think—"

Santana put up one hand and said, "Cut the noise, short-stack. Ponies are fucking cute but they can be a little obnoxious and so are you. Learn something. With us? You need to start listening to the message—not the words."

Rachel snorted but almost instantly she tilted her head, "You think I'm cute, Santana?"

The girl shrugged, "Sure. Yeah. And you know what? If you take the 'e' off the end of that cute, you get cut, which is what's gonna happen if you repeat that."

Rachel rolled her eyes all the while feeling a sense of almost giddy relief in not having to take the girl's threat seriously at all.

"Speaking of getting cut? Might I ask a favor of you three?"

"Why can't you speak normally, midget?"

"Oh, I don't know. Why do you pretend you're not as smart as you are?"

Santana glared at her.

"That's your answer? You're right. It's a defense mechanism that is, unfortunately or not, deeply ingrained in our behavior."

Before Santana could completely blow up at this, Quinn quickly said, "What do you need, sweetheart?"

Rachel smiled at her, but looked from one to the other as she replied, "I didn't hear but I can imagine what you might have said to David after we left and as brilliant as Brittany's plan was for a retaliation against him? I would ask that you please change and/or shower and please not, I repeat, NOT put this on Coach Sylvester's agenda. I'm sure she'll hear about it but she if she doesn't actually see your soiled uniforms, perhaps she won't go after him so harshly. I'm sure the student body will do well enough."

She smiled at Brittany, "What you said was a stroke of genius, Brittany, and I deeply appreciate your standing up for me so forcefully. It's the first time someone has truly done that for me ever. Thank you."

"You're my friend, Rach. I don't want people to hurt you."

"I know, that. And thank you. But I don't want some jihad against David on my behalf. You've been slushied, Quinn. You know what it's like. I don't want anyone—not even him—to go through it. It won't be good for him."

She looked from Santana to Quinn and her expression became very serious. "Okay. Right. It's not good for anyone and I know that. But he's not a psychopath. I promise you I've really looked into his eyes more often than the three of you put together. He's hurting in some way and he's taking it out on others. Hurting him will hurt him a lot more than anything he does to me or Kurt. Kurt and I can take it because we're survivors. He can't because he's not. It could make him really, really dangerous to himself or others and I can't imagine he wants to be that sort of person and I don't want that for him. Please, please put him off the list, if you can. Please."

Quinn swallowed and said, "It's sort of done and we can work on it but we'll all change our uniforms. B? You need a shower and I'll take a wild swing at a guess and think that S will want to take one with you."

"How'd you know?"

"Please."

"Wanna watch us undress, Little Dougie?"

"I'll forgo that experience. I'm modest not only personally but for other people, too."

"Your loss."

"I'm sure."

As Brittany pulled off her Cheerios sweater, she said in a purely conversational tone, "I totally saw Rach naked and she's got a slammin' body."

Santana grinned and looked at Quinn, "Who would have guessed?"

Brittany took her skirt off as she said, "Everybody but especially Q—and well, like, you."

Quinn and Rachel smirked as Santana's face reddened.

* * *

Quinn quickly changed as the other girls showered and then sat by Rachel on the bench between the lockers.

"Do we need to talk about it? What you said to me and everything else was sort of…_charged_, I guess."

Rachel took the girl's hand, "I wasn't mad, Quinn, I was—" she halted and looked into the other girl's eyes, "No, I won't say that because we're starting afresh. Yes, I was angry. Again. It _was _your fault and yet I know not your fault and I wanted to strike out at you and I'm sorry. And I wasn't lying. I couldn't have anyone cry for me, especially you. That would be so much more humiliating than laughter. It would make me cry for myself. And I can _not_ cry—can't show that it bothers me at all—not in school. I have my pride, Quinn, and that's how I keep it. Like I said, it's going to be a process for me. Learning to trust you, learning that I can possibly trust you and your friends. I'm new at it and you are too. Understand?"

"Completely. Another Viking funeral tonight?"

"Yes. And I might have to say goodbye to my owl because I don't think he'll recover and that'll be hard."

Quinn looked into Rachel's earnest face, "I'm not kidding when I say I'm really sorry and I would take you to any store in Lima and buy you another owl sweater."

"I liked _him. _You don't just replace things, Quinn."

Quinn stared at her, listening to the sound of the shower and the nonsensical murmur of Santana and Brittany. "I've always known I'm replaceable."

Rachel shook her head, "That's where you're wrong. You've always been irreplaceable and unforgettable to me. Want me to sing it?"

Quinn bumped her shoulder, "The acoustics in this room are superlative." Then she shouted, "Song incoming!"

Santana shouted over the shower, "Does this surprise me?"

Rachel raised her voice but looked at the wall, not at Quinn.

"_Unforgettable, that's what you are_

_Unforgettable though near or far_

_Like a song of love that clings to me_

_How the thought of you does things to me_

_Never before has someone been more_

_Unforgettable in every way_

_And forever more, that's how you'll stay_

_That's why, darling, it's incredible_

_That someone so unforgettable_

_Thinks that I am unforgettable too_

_No never before has someone been more_

_Unforgettable in every way_

_And forever more, that's how you'll stay_

_That's why, darling, it's incredible_

That someone so unforgettable

_Thinks that I am unforgettable too_

There was a pause before Santana shouted, "When you get your first Grammy, you'd better mention me, bitch."

That successfully broke the heaviness of the words Rachel had sung.

But not the look in Quinn's eyes as she said, "I'm not ever going anywhere, Rachel. I'm here. Take all the time you need."

They heard the shower turn off.

"Except for taking the time to escort me away from where the dynamic duo will dress. Although I'll have to say they have killer bodies. Worth a peek and they don't mind."

"Quinn Fabray!"

Quinn snickered and rose even as Rachel pushed her crutches toward her, "Kidding! Not about the killer bodies or the 'they don't mind' part but I run when the water turns off. I'm shy."

"Me too."

* * *

The next period, before lunch, was something almost all the Glee kids had. Social Studies. They'd arrived early and Sam leapt to attention and helped Rachel with the desk. Even as she adjusted the girl's leg on it, she felt a piercing jealousy over his attentiveness that she suddenly understood wasn't as covert as she'd thought, if the amused looks in Quinn, Brittany and Santana's eyes were any indication.

Finn walked over and said, "Rachel? Can I talk to you?"

"Of course you can."

"Yeah, I know. I mean no. Like in private."

Rachel patted Quinn's cast gently and asked, "Comfortable?"

Quinn gave her a mega-watt smile. "Completely."

"Be right back."

Quinn smirked at Finn, "I know. Hold you to that, Rachel."

"You can."

Finn led Rachel to the other side of the room and said, "What's going on?"

"In what sense?"

"I mean, I heard about you getting slushied today so why are you helping Quinn and stuff?"

"Because her foot is broken and she's my friend?"

He looked incredulous. Or, Rachel decided, maybe more like a one or two-syllable word meaning the very same thing that she couldn't dumb down to think of at the moment.

He lowered his voice, "She's not your friend. She's _playing _you. She plays everybody."

She lowered hers considerably because, as she knew, hers carried, "I appreciate your concern but we've come to an understanding so you need not worry about her intentions toward me. Slushies are _de rigueur_ for me at this point. I apologize for that term. In a colloquial sense, I mean they're expected. I can't exactly remember your being particularly exercised about my suffering them or taking my defense even when we were romantically linked. Brittany, Quinn and Santana, on the other hand, were quite vigorous in their defense today."

"It's a joke for all of them, Rachel. You gotta know that."

"I happen to know it's not."

He reached to touch her face and she stepped back, "Please don't. I completely understand why you broke up with me. I behaved childishly and dishonorably over Santana but don't act like we're friends when I've tried and you've rebuffed me and the first friendly instinct you've had toward me since then is to warn me off of the people who show me kindness. Think about how that feels for me. You never care until someone else does. I know that now."

The teacher entered the room even as he said, "Rachel—"

"Class is starting."

* * *

Puck watched the interaction between the Cheerios and Rachel with a mixture of surprise and a complete lack thereof. He always felt slightly protective toward Rachel because, hey, she was his Jew but also because he not so secretly thought she was hot and slightly secretly totally admired her. He'd heard about the slushy attack, so he watched Brittany, who was always the key to everything with the three Cheerios. Brittany couldn't act her way out of a soaking wet paper bag. She was who she was and evidently things were on the up and up because Brittany looked happy with Rachel helping Quinn.

He knew, for a fact, and maybe more deeply than anyone else in school, that Quinn was not at all who she seemed. She was not just the pretty blonde cheerleader who only had stars in her eyes for guys or for popularity. He'd seen first-hand when she'd lived with him how much sadness and anger was there if you just scratched beneath the surface. And because he hadn't been trying to but couldn't seem not to scratch her because he didn't understand how not to, he'd seen it again and again.

She was the saddest and angriest person putting up a bullshit front he'd ever known. He'd always thought that person was him. But no. Just no. One night, just looking up at the ceiling in his room, knowing she was sleeping in the same house, he'd thought about it, really thought about it and he'd laughed. Because that was just fucking perfect and what was it like? He'd searched for the word…yeah—it was like karma or something—that a girl so completely tied to him forever by a child they'd so stupidly created together and would now always have to miss forever was so much like him and still so much better. But he'd fallen asleep with a smile on his face. He'd always known that girls rocked.

* * *

Finn hated it, hated it, hated it. He watched as Rachel sat between Quinn and Santana and as Brittany sat behind her and braided her hair.

He didn't, maybe, actually want Rachel because she was really sort of irritating and high maintenance and un-understandable as a girlfriend. But this whole friend-sy thing with the three Cheerios? That was just wrong.

Halfway through the class, Puck, who'd been watching him watching them, leaned over and whispered, "You don't want them. They don't want you either. Trust me. They don't. And payback's hell, bro."

"That's where you're wrong. I'm a good guy but Quinn's doing something wrong. Just watch."

"Fine. Don't say I didn't tell you."

* * *

As class ended, it was not as easy to get to Rachel as Finn had thought. He'd known they'd all go to the cafeteria for lunch because it was so cold but he couldn't imagine what he'd see when he got there.

Frankly, neither could Quinn and Santana.

Rachel was sitting in Brittany's lap, lazily kicking her legs, one arm around the blonde's shoulder and using her other hand to feed both of them grapes as they talked and laughed with great animation. Brittany had one arm around Rachel's waist and the other hand firmly planted on Rachel's outer thigh, only just barely outside her very short skirt line.

"Nice hand placement, huh? Way to go for the gold." Santana shook her head. "See Q? I so _knew_ this would happen. You take two puppies off their leashes in one room and where do they end up? All over each other."

Quinn watched them laugh together and had to smile, "With no disrespect meant to either party, what in the world do you think those two talk about?"

Santana watched them laughing, watched her girl happy and said, "Look at them. I sort of don't care. You know what I mean?"

"Totally. But let's find out."

"On it, boss."

"You only say that because I'm on crutches and you're the captain."

"So I am. You got it, Caliente."

"Finally. You admit you think I'm hot."

Santana lowered her voice to a virtual whisper, "Whatever. I have a type. You have a type. Tall blonde cheerleaders. Petite ethnic brunettes, much? Face it. We'd both fuck each other in a minute flat if we didn't somehow know it'd be like Ragnarok for both of us."

Quinn blinked and lowered her voice as well. "Excuse me. Did you just liken a Scandinavian mythological end-all battle of the gods to our having sex with each other?"

"Maybe. So? I mean it would be, wouldn't it? Like, just don't even lie because your eyes don't. You feel it occasionally for me and I feel it occasionally for you and we both ignore it."

Looking down into Santana's eyes, Quinn knew the other girl had given expression to the sexual tension she'd never evidently quite decided to understand that went on between them. She found herself incredibly embarrassed at having been so obtuse but mustered the grace to square her shoulders and say, "You're a complete bitch, S."

"Gotcha. That means I'm right, right? When am I not?"

"Oh I don't know. Constantly?"

"Don't go begging to get hurt, Q. Unless you like it like that. Because that's where you'd totally get me. And _only _you. On your knees or over mine." She paused, then said, "Huh. Wow. Thanks for that visual. Let's go get our girls."

"You're _such_a pervert. And Rachel isn't my girl."

"I think your blush indicates you can at least imagine what I'm talking about so who's on the same perv page? As for Rachel, that's just a matter of time." She stepped closer and whispered in Quinn's ear, "And honey, just so you know, with girls you don't really have to choose sides but I'd bet you have one. I'm thinking bottom in neon but whatever. Rachel? Top much? Promise if she goes bottom she'll be a dictator even there so just go with it and—"

"SHUT UP!" Quinn had flushed to what she felt must be nearly purple.

Santana held up both hands even as she began to laugh, "Sorry. Don't blame me because you're easy."

**A/N? From early reviews? _No_. And I don't even care about spoiling. No to a poly-amorous quad. Not happening in this story. I read those stories and enjoy them but I'm making the attractions a possibility and fun for the sake of the story. Sorry. Faberry. Britanna, with a bit of Rachel lurves Britts just enough to irritate the hell out of their girls. That's all.  
**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**Very short but have to go help a friend after (a successful) surgery and wanted to update. More Gleek stuff—and hey, they're kids-they'll talk about sex. And I make up a song for this chapter for Mr. Schue to horrify the kids with.**

* * *

As the two girls approached Brittany and Rachel, Santana said, "Can we get in on this party or is it private?"

Rachel kissed Brittany on the cheek and said, "We'll have to finish later."

Brittany patted her as the smaller girl got up, "Definitely."

Quinn raised one eyebrow, "Finish what exactly?"

Rachel smiled. That sounded jealous. Good. She immediately decided to dismiss why that felt good.

As Santana sat down across from Rachel, Brittany sat next to her and said, "Rach made up the best game like maybe ever in history."

"Did she now," Quinn said as she took a seat next to Rachel's and smiled at the girl helping adjust her cast in an extra chair.

"It's epic. What you do is you think of something you don't know how to do—and like…well, like she said, that's sort of almost everything and then talk about it like you know how. So we were talking about fixing a ginormous air conditioner for an apartment complex—and we got to just make up the names of tools and parts and stuff. Rach, I think we need to finish the air conditioner and then drive a submarine."

Rachel grinned at her, "Captain Brittany ahoy."

"I think we'd totally have something like police have so we could talk to whales super loud so we wouldn't bump into them, don't you?"

"Absolutely!"

Santana looked with a mixture of disbelief and amusement across the table at Quinn who closed her eyes for a moment and then smiled. "I sincerely don't know why you two don't just run the planet."

"We'll try that after driving the submarine, Brittany!"

Santana crossed herself.

* * *

"Mind if I join you," Finn asked even as he took a seat next to Brittany because she was the least threatening person at the table.

Rachel was next to never what she considered deliberately impolite. However, she'd been reminded she had a tendency for impetuous frankness and she was working on that but Finn was, how would Santana put it? Right. He was working on her last nerve. "I suppose not, Finn, although I fail to see the point."

"Well, we're all friends, right?"

"Not even." Santana said.

"Not really." Brittany concurred.

"Not at all." Quinn smiled at him as she took a bite of her sandwich.

* * *

Jealousy sucked, Puck decided. He'd felt it. Sure. But watching Finn being all jelly over what he didn't even want was stupid. What was that shit called way back? Oh yeah. Dog in the haystack.

He loved the guy but as he watched Finn lumbering over to his girls' table, he decided he'd be damned if he'd leave his baby m—no, he corrected himself, his child's mother and, well, a really hot Jew with Finnlameass. San he trusted to fend for herself and Britt, and didn't anyone know that.

He strode over and sat next to Rachel and pulled his seat close to hers. "Hey Jew. Whatcha got for lunch? I betcha I got something you can eat. My mom is on some health kick and made me some crazy veggie wrap crap. Let's do the taste test—maybe we can trade."

Finn sort of hated the fact that Rachel smiled and rested her head on the boy's arm fondly before she said, "Let's look. And you may be surprised, Noah. Vegetarian and vegan food is delicious."

Quinn didn't like it but she didn't hate it because Puck was looking into her eyes. It was Protective!Puck looking back at her.

She gave him the slightest nod and he winked at her.

As they traded food, there was a food skirmish between the glitter twins.

"Britts—just gimme."

"No! I can eat it."

"You don't like it and I'll talk to our mom. Our _mami_ packed something better for both of us today."

"You don't like it!"

"I can eat it—and it makes you not eat. You need to eat. You're a racehorse."

"HOLD UP" Quinn said loudly, "Who's in charge here?"

Santana looked relieved, for a change, to say, "_You,_ bitch."

"True story. What's the problem?"

Santana answered, "Our mom—I mean Britts' mom got all sorts of crazy over some bargain on pickle loaf last week, right? And she's been feeding it to my baby for lunch and I can eat that shit and Britts acts like she eats it but she doesn't and she feeds the bread to birds and the meat to that fat-ass Boston Terrier named Samson for some whosy-whatsy reason a block from her house."

"How'd you know that, San?"

"I like, uh, basically live with you and I've seen you do it?"

"Oh." Brittany nodded, "Right. That's true."

"Serious up, Britts? We'll feed the birds and Samson but our _mami_ packed something for both of us to eat. Pickle loaf can go to hell."

Brittany looked at Santana with such burning adoration that it made Rachel's throat feel like it was closing.

So she decided to change the subject, "What is pickle loaf?" Everyone at the table except her seemed to know.

Finn was about to explain but Santana snapped her fingers and gave him a dire look, "Don't say a monosyllable, Finnessa. You? Frodo? If you really wanna know, I'll tell you after school. Privately. It's not reasonable. It's edible but unreasonable."

"Food isn't reasonable or unreasonable. It can be ethical or unethical. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Snap! Exactly my reaction three quarters of the times you open your mouth, hobbit, and not because I don't have two neurons to rub together, as I believe you know at this point."

"Fine. I'll pretend you aren't insulting me."

"Fine. I'll pretend I'm not going to choke you to death in the bathroom later and make it look like auto-erotic asphyxiation."

"Fine. Even in that exigency, I'm sure Quinn would be fully capable of composing a memorial tribute for the yearbook suitable to my character and dignity despite the circumstances of my quietus."

"Quietus? Santana grinned, "The primary and secondary denotations and connotations of that word joined with this ridonkulous discussion _rock_ the nuance. Bitch, you are _fine._ If your vocabulary were an ass I'd tell you to back that up and I promise I'd do it right."

Brittany looked at Rachel. "Told you."

Finn literally had no idea what the two girls had said but it sounded mean and made him nervous. Puck and Brittany didn't really understand but they understood the two girls were joking. Quinn understood and rolled her eyes. "Can we please just eat lunch before killing each other or declaring endless love over vocabulary because I need a pain pill."

Rachel popped to attention, "You've had three bites of your sandwich, baby—you can take your medicine." She rubbed the girl's back as if that would make the pain go away and Quinn smiled at her.

Finn didn't know what to think about Rachel's reaction and especially the word baby. Puck merely lifted an eyebrow as he sifted through Rachel's lunch items. Things were getting interesting.

* * *

At the Gleeks' table, Artie, Mercedes, Kurt, Tina and Mike were watching and pondering the imponderable.

"She annoys all of us," Artie said, "But this is so messed up if they're playing Rachel."

"Oh, they're not." Mercedes said. She and Kurt had decided a tiny bit of disclosure would go a long way and, hey, it was all innocent, right? "Me and my boy had zombie movie night Saturday with Rachel and Quinn and her daddies because they were totally having a sleepover."

At the astonishment on the others' faces, Kurt confirmed, "Mercedes tells the truth. The movie scarred me for life and I'll never again walk into a mall without thinking how I could possibly barricade all the exits but yes, Quinn and Rachel sat next to each other and watched an entire movie without incident."

"Well, that's good, right? That they're getting to be friends?"

Artie looked at Mike in disbelief, "They're mortal enemies so that doesn't happen overnight. I'm telling you I'm not buying it."

"I'm just saying it could happen."

Tina ran a hand over Mike's arm, a sight that still never failed to irritate Artie, as she said, "I think Mike's right. It's too soon for us to pass judgment."

"Although…I_ suppose _Quinn does pass judgement on all of us only, perhaps, every day our lives."

"Preach, Kurt."

Mercedes' eyes widened as she looked meaningfully at Kurt and said, "Don't go encouraging this or it's gonna get back. And best believe there'll be some kick back, if not blow back. We've said enough."

"Thank you. I'm sure you're right," Kurt said primly.

With that, Artie, Mike and Tina realized that the other two knew something they didn't. Something so ominous that it kept even them from indulging in their rabid delight in spreading gossip.

Which had to be something about Quinn.

* * *

The rest of the day went fairly normally, if one could call normal having Quinn Fabray and Santana acting nicely toward Rachel Berry, which one could not.

It finally landed them all in Glee, where everyone but the four girls had realized they either were on another page or in another book.

As they waited on Mr. Schue to make his appearance, and when weren't they, Rachel yet again arranged Quinn's chair but when she sat next to her, Santana planted herself on Rachel's other side. "Yeah. Just so you and Britts can keep those wandering hands to yourselves."

"There's nothing wrong with affection, Santana."

"With my baby? When it makes me want to throw up? Yeah. There sorta is."

Brittany took her seat next to Santana but reached around her back to rub Rachel's shoulder and said, "San. Be nice. Rach is totally nice to pet. You should try it."

Santana narrowed her eyes at Rachel, who had the wisdom not to laugh.

* * *

Will walked into the room and he was beaming, which to all the kids in the room meant he'd probably thought of another disastrous song choice.

"Guys! Sorry I'm late—and Quinn—I'm so sorry about your foot. I heard about it earlier."

"Thank you, Mr. Schue. I only hope my, let's say, impediment and sorry for that pun, can be accommodated."

"What do you mean?"

"I have to use crutches but for our numbers? For the next two months, I can use a wheelchair. I don't have Artie's skills but we've all done choreography in wheelchairs. Choreographed well, I suppose it could lend a sort of symmetry, so to speak."

"That's the spirit!" Truthfully, after hearing about Quinn's foot, he hadn't planned out much more than wrapping his mind around having to deal with a very testy Quinn Fabray and what that would mean for the rest of the club. That she was being so seemingly helpful and reasonable was somehow slightly alarming to him. As was the fact that Rachel was sitting next to her and smiling.

"I had a brain wave this weekend! We've done soul music so why not change it up and do a Latin set? Show some love, right?"

Everyone turned to Santana, who whispered, "_Ay dios mio_," before saying, "How about because I'm like the token Latina, giving it up instead for our two Asians? There's plenty of C-Pop, J-Pop and Hindi-Pop to go around. Right, Chang-C-Chang?"

Quinn reached across Rachel and thumped Santana hard even as Mike and Tina nodded in agreement.

"The fu—" Santana censored herself before saying, "Thump me again Q, and you're gonna need another cast. Mike, Tina? Sorry if that last bit that sounded a little somethin-somethin' and I didn't mean it that way but you bring it on yourselves for having pretty much the same last names. And what's up with that, anyway?"

Before they could answer, Will tried to say something but as usual, Rachel beat him to it, "I must say although I'm not as familiar with the music in those genres as in the Latin, Santana's idea is fair."

Rachel supporting Santana. Weird, Will thought. "Point taken, guys! We'll do Latin. Then Asian music. This is incredibly exciting!"

He turned to the white board and Rachel threw up her hands and looked at Santana who just motioned with one hand that clearly meant. "I know right?"

Quinn couldn't help herself. "Let me guess, Mr. Schue. J-Lo or Shakira or Marc Anthony or Ricky Martin?"

Santana had crossed her arms, which was never a good sign.

"We could do all of them—but I found a great really old, old school song from the 1920s that I think we could showcase. It's called, _I Learned to Tango!_"

"I'm thinking we'll have a female soloist dance the tango with one of our guys." He passed out sheet music to all of them and he nodded at Brad who started to play.

As Mr. Schue half-sang the words to give them a feel for it, all of the kids became increasingly mortified.

Once it was over, Brittany offered, to the surprise of everyone in the room who entirely agreed with her assessment, "Mr. Schue? This is about a girl losing her virginity."

Will stabbed at the air with his Sharpie—"In a dance sense, yes, Brittany. I mean, I can remember my first Bossa Nova like it was yesterday."

Brittany whispered, "No. I meant like really."

Santana could feel the pin the tail on the Latina donkey in the air. "Mr. Schue? Before you go there? Not the song for me—not me lyrically or musically. I'd suggest giving it to Rachel. She'd do it justice."

She smirked at Rachel as the smaller girl and Quinn glared at her. Even Brittany got the joke and frowned.

Rachel narrowed her eyes at Santana and then smiled at her teacher, "Unless one of the other girls in the room offers, never let it be said I won't take one for the team, figuratively speaking of course."

Shocked silence.

"I thought not. As Santana has suggested, I've never had the pleasure of doing the tango, so I think I should choose the partner I'd be the most comfortable with, don't you, Mr. Schue?"

He grinned at her, "Of course."

"Thank you. I'm glad you see my point. Naturally I'd only want to do it with one of our best and most experienced dancers and although I esteem Mike greatly, I think I'd prefer to do it with Brittany. Would you consider doing it with me, Brittany?"

Quinn glanced from Rachel to Brittany and snorted because the blonde girl had totally gotten the joke. "Totally. I'd love to do it with you, Rach."

The whole room stifled a laugh except for Santana who was radiating heat and Will who was slightly confused and Finn who was completely confused.

"But Rachel, traditionally—this would be—"

"I understand. But if, as you said, this song is about a girl learning to do a dance, surely there's nothing wrong with one girl teaching another to do it."

"I suppose not."

"Fine. I want to do it with Brittany. And she wants to do it with me. She's a gifted choreographer and I'll be happy to take the sheet music home and work on it tonight if she's available."

Brittany nodded.

"And it just so happens that my fathers will be out of the house so we can do it anywhere we want and be as loud as we want. Sound good, Brittany?"

Brittany giggled. "Perfect."

Will and Finn knew they were missing something important but the rest of the class were completely pie-eyed.

Puck settled into his seat, laughed and thought y_um._

As they walked out of class, Rachel was nervous because she could tell Brittany and Quinn were nervous about Santana. They flanked her as they left the room and Santana said, "Oh please. I'm not about to hurt our little pony. But don't think I don't needsta speak to her. Walk on, blondes. Me and tiny will catch up."

"S?"

"Q? I won't put a finger on her."

"Don't be mean, San."

She smiled at Brittany, "No worries, baby."

As the girls reluctantly left them, Rachel braced herself for blunt force trauma at the least.

Santana glared around them at the hall, which suggested the worst to the smaller girl, then to her surprise, began to laugh. "Midget can play hardball! News at 11!"

She stepped closer, "Listen and learn. Only because that was actually sort of funny? I'm letting your smack down go. Just this once. And here _you_ go. Just 'cause I love ya, I gotsda tell you what pickle loaf is."

She leaned forward, whispered the ingredients into Rachel's ear and the girl reeled back into the wall, "That's an ABOMINATION!"

"Wha wha? Payback's hell, Little Dougie."

**A/N More real Faberry next time.**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**I'm very sorry to have not answered your reviews, all of which I deeply appreciate. RL has been kicking my butt!**

**Some nerdy references to Battlestar Galactica and one to the movie Gallipoli. This may seem an odd and random chapter but it's setting up a rather serious completely Faberry chapter next time. Still, if you like it, I always truly appreciate hearing about it.**

* * *

Brittany and Rachel had refused any help or audience for their work on the tango, much to the consternation of Santana and Quinn.

"It's our song so no help needed from two particularly _involved_ members of the peanut gallery," was how Rachel had put it.

Brittany and Rachel had worked on the song for three hours and found frequent text messages seemed to mollify the jealous dogs who'd kept blowing up their phones.

* * *

The next day went nearly the same way, with everyone playing their roles, including Finn looking like a dog hearing a training whistle and not knowing quite what to do.

No one had been slushied that morning. Everyone had studiously avoided meeting Rachel's eyes, which seemed to her scarcely better than their glaring into them. A forced abnegation was something that felt bigger than she wanted. She'd just wanted normalcy, something she was evidently never going to get in high school no matter who her friends were.

But then they'd all gone to lunch. It was a slightly warmer and prettier sunny day and the students made the most of it by gathering in the outside quad. As Rachel, Quinn, Santana and Brittany ate, Rachel's hackles suddenly rose and she knew something would happen even before she saw it happen.

The A/V nerds. Every one of them, out of nowhere, hit Karofsky with wave after wave of slushie. And suddenly he screamed. But it wasn't a scream of anger—it was one of pain. He stood with his arms before him and walked a few steps, seemingly blindly and swiped into the air, screaming in anguish.

Rachel leapt up and grabbed her bag—"Ohmygod! His eyes! Quinn! Make him sit down! Help me!"

Quinn obeyed and rushed forward as quickly as she could, barking loudly, "KAROFSKY! IT'S QUINN! SIT DOWN! RIGHT WHERE YOU'RE STANDING. SOMEONE'S COMING TO HELP WITH YOUR EYES."

He rocked in place and wailed and she said, "KAROFSKY! _HELLO?_ QUINN MUCH? SIT THE FUCK DOWN RIGHT NOW!"

He collapsed into a seated position and rocked back and forth in agony and Quinn moved as quickly as she could on crutches behind Rachel, watching the girl sweep her sweater off and heard as she approached, "David, it's only me. It's Rachel. My daddy's a doctor. Do you drink slushies, all flavors?"

He grimaced in pain, "Yeah."

She was cut, dry and loud enough for him to register, "So you're not allergic to them in any enteric sense. Any allergies?"

He huffed through his pain as he thought, "Hay fever. Bad skin allergies."

"Got it. You wear disposable contacts and your eyes are very sensitive, aren't they?"

"How'd you—"

"Again? Doctor's daughter. Doesn't matter."

Quinn and everyone else had made a circle around the scene as Rachel said, "I know this hurts, David, but I'm here to help. Put your hands on your thighs and keep them there."

He whimpered as he gripped the sides of his blue jeans in his pain.

She knelt by him and said, "I'm only going to wipe your face with my sweater. Don't hit me."

She wiped his multicolored face and eyes and said, "You're going to put yourself on your back with your head on my sweater because I need to remove your contacts and flush your eyes, okay?"

He was nearly writhing in pain but he pulled on the fabric on the thighs of his jeans and nodded and she wrapped her arms around his head and guided him onto to his back.

"This is room-temp distilled water. That's what's you're going to feel, okay?"

He nodded again.

She reached into her bag and pulled out one her bottles of water, cracked it open, then poured it over his closed eyes, wiped them and then mouthed to Santana 'Need more.'

Santana rushed off.

Quinn threw her crutches aside to kneel on David's opposite side.

"What are you doing? You need elevation, Quinn."

She shook her head, "I have a fucking cast. Just tell me what I need to do."

"Hold his head still."

Santana arrived with more water and said she'd called for the school nurse.

Rachel poured water over her hands and said, softly but firmly, "I'm going to open your left eye, David, and remove your contact."

She opened his eye with one hand, looked into it, then gently touched his contact with the pinkie finger of the other to lift it out.

"Turn your head, David."

She plucked that contact out with the same procedure.

"Good. We need to flush your eyes for at least five minutes. You have to hold onto your jeans but don't do anything but relax. It's going to be okay, David. Quinn? Keep his other eye open gently with your fingers and very slowly pour the water over it."

She looked into David's swelling eyes and said, "Don't worry. I know all about it." As they pulled his eyelids open, they both slowly rained two bottles each of distilled water gently over his open eyes and he felt his anger leaving him, sadness filling him until Rachel seemed to know what he was thinking and said, "None of that. Just let us take care of you."

He nodded.

When they'd finished, she said, "Can you see me?"

He looked at her blearily, "Yes."

"Still the small Jewish bulls-eye?"

He tried to smile but failed, "Sorta."

Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw the new school nurse had arrived and said, "Who are you again? Oh yes, Ms. Fitzgerald."

The woman nodded.

"David has extremely sensitive eyes and has been hit in them by a frozen mixture of iced corn syrup. I suspect he's allergic to the artificial dyes in them. He's obviously exhibiting an allergic reaction necessitating a visit to an ER ophthalmologist. Although we've flushed both of his eyes for five minutes with distilled water, he should be seen immediately."

She stood, completely slimed with David's slushies and continued, "Unless you wish to balk at that suggestion. In which case I will call my father or the father of Santana Lopez, both of whom are admitting doctors at our hospital, to take care of him."

Ms. Fitzgerald looked at the boy's rapidly swelling eyes and answered, "Of course, I'll take him right away."

Quinn hadn't moved from David's side. Rachel stooped down, guided the boy into a seated position and then wrapped her arms around his head and whispered in his ear, "Off to the hospital, David, and you'll be alright. When you walk out of here, hold your head up. The slushie's on you—the shame is on them. It's only fucking frozen corn syrup. Not the end of the world. Remember that. Hold your head up."

He nodded in her arms and whispered, "Thank you."

She pulled away from him and said, quietly, "You're welcome. It's what humans do, David."

He stared at her, "It's not what I do. What am I?"

"A human work in progress. We all are." She tapped him on the cheek. "Get going, big guy."

He nodded as Sam and the nurse helped him up.

As Santana helped Quinn off her knees and after everyone had watched David be led off the quad by the nurse, Rachel stepped into the middle of the quad and sang at maximum "Don't Rain on My Parade" volume,

"Hey WILLIAM MCKINLEY…HERE I AMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM."

It was riveting and everyone turned back to her.

Rachel's voice carried even if she didn't want it to and now she wanted it to. To everyone.

"If you want to slushie anyone, do it _to me_. If you want to hurt a freshman, _slushie me_. If you feel sad about a break-up, _slushie me_. You think or know someone's gay? _Slushie me_. You A/V losers who just endangered David's sight? _Slushie me._ If any of you are just so completely lame that you don't have the imagination, words, thoughts, voice, music, science, math or philosophy to express yourself like humans and have to physically assault people with food? Please! _SLUSHIE ME!_

"I'm smaller than most of you but I am bigger than all of you and nothing you can do to me will ever change that. Slushie _me._ You could slushie me eight times a day and I would still laugh at all of you in my rearview mirror as I leave high school. So open season. But only on me. _SLUSHIE ME_."

She marched away and up the stairs and Quinn had absolutely no idea what she should do at that moment. She hadn't had time to rescind her order against Karofsky so this was completely her fault.

Brittany knew what to do. She shouted, "If you slushie Rachel, you slushie me and you all know that that means."

Santana stepped forward, "Get the picture, morons? Slushie our hobbit and you slushie Britts. I don't think I have to tell anybody what'll happen if you touch Brittany because so help me God, I will—"

Quinn interrupted, loudly enough for everyone to hear, although it sounded almost conversational, "I think the upshot of this, for those of you who are too dim-witted to follow, is no more slushies for anyone. Drink them—don't throw them. Or I will rain down everything I have at my disposal on any of you who oppose me. If I hear that any of you need to act out because you think I'm going soft and don't think I can give you some discipline?"

She adjusted herself on her crutches.

"Remember you're dealing with me and Santana. As you know, we're the only really, truly nice guys at WMHS. As for all of you nobodies who can't imagine I see you? I'm always watching and I _so_ do see you and I'm _so_ laughing. And so does Santana. So think again, little people. We're both giving you an inch. Try to take a mile and, believe me, you'll find yourself on a really short road to high school Hell. We can completely accommodate you on that particular holiday excursion."

No one met her eyes but when they began to move about, everything about their postures registered they'd heard. Santana slinked up behind her and said, "So say we all!"

"Fuck off, Boomer."

"Battlestar? Oooh. Recognition salivation alert. As for Boomer, I'm not a hot Asian chick but I'll do. And fuck you, Six." Santana thought about it for a few moments and said, "Whoa. Flash! We _so _have some of the same issues between Models Six and Eight and that explains so much."

Santana was such a raging science fiction geek that Quinn could sometimes scarcely believe it but she had forced herself to admit, and only to herself, that she'd enjoyed it over the years. "I am studiously ignoring you." A few moments went by. "I think we should watch all of it again with Rachel."

"Rachel could so be Baltar."

"And you could so fuck off."

"Am I wrong? Loves him some tall blonde pretty Six and he's dark, short, pretty, brilliant, talented, self-absorbed to the point of messianic and prone to—"

"Just don't make me…"

* * *

Quinn had breathed nearly a hacking sigh of relief as the next class after lunch found Rachel smiling, in a different outfit and helping her with her cast. All was well. The day had gone on a little like that. Weird but not so much.

Until they got to Glee. Brittany and Rachel had arrived early to talk to Brad about the number. As the Glee kids filed in, they saw Brittany in a black dance tank with low-cut black skinny jeans and black boots. Rachel was wearing a white dance tank with a short black skirt and black heels.

"Britts, what's with the outfit?"

Brittany grinned at Santana, "I couldn't do this piece in a Cheerios' uniform, San. That'd be sorta super wrong-looking."

Brittany, who was the greater genius in dance, could occasionally pull rank. "I have a couple more things to tell Brad." She leaned forward and whispered, "I love you more than anything."

"Back atcha, baby."

"Santana?"

"Frodo?"

"Please help Quinn elevate her leg. Brittany and I have to speak to Brad."

As the kids filed in and Santana actually did help Quinn, they watched as Rachel watched a very serious Brittany explaining something to Brad.

They couldn't hear it but Rachel could. She wished everyone could hear and understand this Brittany, who was brilliant. Certainly more brilliant than she about sheer musicality. Music was Rachel's world and although she was a fairly proficient piano player, she was only truly vocally a musician, as she thought of the term. The performance of music physically happened around her and she knew when it was wrong or right but she hadn't mastered the art of talking to real musicians. Brittany had. She didn't sound anything like her usual self when speaking about dance and music.

"So we talked about the beginning. But here? End of the bridge? Full stop. My head will be down. When Rach starts to sing again? Wait for my head? When I lift it—pop—that's one. And you'll feel it and hit it on two. Beside that, just watch and play it like we're dancing it. So basically in terms of the movements with the piano, slight ease, easier, easier, chorus easiest, bridge, then just feel free to vamp. I know you know the song cold so don't even pretend like you have to read it. You'll see what I mean. You're super good like that."

She walked away and Brad said to Rachel more than she'd ever heard him speak, "I hope you know that she's the only real professional in this place. She's already so completely there she never has to say anything about her talent. She's amazing."

Rachel got the dig but she put it away as something to actually consider as she pushed her ego aside to say, "Actually, I do know that, Brad. I'm glad we both appreciate her."

As Mr. Schue walked in, the kids watched Rachel applying some very red lipstick.

"Oh good. Mr. Schue. Brittany and I would like to perform our number first, if you don't mind."

"No, that's great—I'm sure we're all looking forward to what you two put together."

Santana and Quinn glanced at each other as Rachel joined Brittany in the middle of the room.

Brittany lowered her voice, "Can I touch you?"

Rachel smiled up at her and whispered, "Please."

Brittany pulled her closer and whispered, "Remember what Ms. Sokoll says. Dance is a physical expression of musical emotion. We know what this song's about. You're singing it but you're dancing it, too, so don't be shy at all—like super at all. Who am I?"

"You're my lead and you won't let me fall or fail."

"Right. It's just acting, Rach, so focus on me and act it with me, 'kay?"

"Okay."

"For the next four minutes, you're mine. Enjoy it while you got it because San would so kill you if this were real. Got it?"

Rachel grinned up at her, "Got it. Let's go."

* * *

Brittany walked away and turned on her mark.

Brad waited. Rachel and Brittany looked at each other for a long few moments before Brittany approached her and bowed and extended her hand. Rachel met hers.

Rachel and Brad filled in the music.

The beginning was a standard tango, in a slightly open position, with Rachel looking up at Brittany with the same doe-eyed look everyone was familiar with her giving Finn.

Finn smiled.

Two verses in, Finn stopped smiling. Brittany pulled Rachel closer and the girl looked up at her with heat that Brittany returned. Rachel sang to it. Wanting it.

After Rachel sang the next verse, they danced the chorus even as Brittany pulled her tighter. And as they reached the bridge, ever tighter, until the end of the bridge when Brittany pulled Rachel flush into her body and dipped her face against Rachel's, facing their audience as the music stopped.

Rachel dropped her head back. "I learned to tango…ooooooooo"

Brittany held Rachel against her and their hands were so fiercely interlocked that the knuckles showed white. Brittany suddenly winced as she closed her eyes and lowered her head. It was perfectly choreographed to look, artistically, exactly like what it was supposed to be. It wasn't explicit or vulgar but it was there. They didn't move at all for a few moments.

Brad waited.

Rachel took her time but finally drew a shuddery breath and they both relaxed into each other.

As Rachel lifted a decidedly tremulous note, Brittany lifted her head, and professional as they both were, she and Brad pushed on beat two. The next verses were danced differently. They were in a tighter position. Brittany had made the song what it was—the beginning of desire, consummation and a desire for more. It was completely implicit but smooth and hot and sinuous. No one except Santana had ever seen Brittany like this. No one at all had ever seen in Rachel a girl who'd had sex for the first time, liked it and wanted it again. But they both played it and looked it until the end of the song.

At the end of the song, both girls looked at each other and suddenly transformed back into themselves before their audience, even as Santana leaned into Quinn and whispered, "Correct me if I'm wrong but did your girl just dance-fuck my girl?"

Quinn glared at Rachel, "Not my girl—but yeah—true story."

Rachel beamed up at Brittany, "That was perfection. You're a superlative choreographer!"

"Thanks! And you sang and danced great Rach." She turned and said, "Brad, that was perfect, dude."

The rest of the room was speechless until Kurt said, "I'm gay and I still need a cigarette. Stat."

Mercedes agreed, "I know right? I'm not even and I do, too."

Rachel smiled, "I'm terrifically pleased you enjoyed our performance. As you can see Mr. Schue, this is indeed a wonderful song but we danced its meaning. That said, although I think allowances can be made for comical references to sex in our pop numbers, this song is a truthful one about a young girl's sexual awakening, which isn't appropriate for our Glee Club. I believe we were all trying to make that clear to you yesterday. I must concede that it must be harrowing to have to listen to teen opinions on a daily basis but occasionally we're right and you're wrong. Brittany and I will be happy to do it all you want but it's not going to be looked upon happily by any adult audience."

Will had the presence of mind not to groan as he suddenly realized the level of innuendo that had been thrown around in class the day before.

"Got it. You two did a wonderful job but I guess we're back to the drawing board." He stood and walked toward his board, "Ideas, anyone?"

* * *

Session ended, Santana and Brittany walked toward Rachel and Quinn in the hall and overheard, "I'm not sure I understand, Quinn. Are you angry with me?"

"No. Santana's taking me home today—that's all."

News to Santana.

"But I don't understand why—"

"You don't have to understand everything, Rachel."

Rachel looked up into Quinn's cold eyes. "No. I do understand everything."

As Rachel walked away, Santana thought she'd never seen Quinn so angry in her life but as always—she was angry with herself. Santana glanced at Brittany, who looked sad and frightened so she tried to make it normal, breezy.

"So I hear you need a ride, cap?"

"No, I need a clue."

Quinn speed-dialed Rachel and prayed the girl would pick up.

She did. "What?"

"Could you please still give me a ride?"

"Why? The Lopez Taxi service isn't running?"

"No—I mean yes—but I'm sorry and I want to talk to you."

A long pause.

"You know where my car is, I presume, since I got up early to pick you up in it?"

"Yes."

"See you when I see you."

"Not if I see you first."

A long pause.

"You like that movie, too?"

"One of my favorites."

A long pause.

"I'll be waiting."

* * *

As Quinn made her way to Rachel's car, the girl didn't smile but she opened the door and took Quinn's backpack and crutches and stowed them as the girl seated herself.

When she got in the car, she didn't even look at Quinn and reached to push her key into the ignition.

Quinn stopped her by placing a hand on her forearm.

"What?" Rachel's voice was harsh.

"Rachel?"

"What?"

Fat tears slid down Quinn's cheeks. "I think I need help."

Seeing this, Rachel immediately dropped her attitude and her voice softened, "With what, baby?"

"I think I'm messed up or I think…I need help…like therapy or something."

"C'mere, you." Rachel pulled Quinn into a hug and the girl suddenly began to sob.

She rubbed soothing circles on Quinn's back and thanked God for this one small favor.

**A/N See what I mean? One chapter of serious times coming up. But I don't do angst at all. That's completely a spoiler. I DO NOT DO ANGST. That's a promise. **

**From early reviews, I guess I should say, what has troubled Quinn will be dealt with in the next chapter. This is a bit of a cliffhanger, I suppose, but no-it's not just jealousy. It's about her understanding herself as a person. You'll see.  
**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**I appreciate your reading and your comments. This is mostly Faberry with a dash of Santana and heaping helping of Judy Fabray. Warning up? Not easy going.**

**[And, as one of my lovely readers has asked? No, the events of last night's Glee episode (which I enjoyed, BTW) will not have any impact on this story. Canon characters and storyline aren't mine. This is only my version of them and YMMV. It's AU and staying that way. And there are geek references to Star Trek Voyager. Sorry. I'm always gonna be SciFi like that.]**

* * *

As they pulled apart, Rachel said, "Let me take you home and we can talk about it, okay?"

Quinn nodded as she wiped her eyes, "We'll have privacy. Mom's taking her real estate license exam today."

"Really?"

Quinn sniffed and rummaged through her bag, pulled out a tissue and wiped her nose, "Yeah. She's been taking courses. Dad pays alimony but she wants to make her own money."

Rachel started the car, "That should make you very proud of her, Quinn."

"It does, but it also makes me sad a little. We have enough money but I know she wants more so she can do better for me. My father doesn't have to pay child support because I'm emancipated."

Rachel kept her eye on the road but reached over to pat Quinn's leg, "That's what loving parents do, baby. They go the extra mile to provide for their children. I'm proud of her for doing that for you and for her streak of independence. She's still a relatively young woman and she can make a new life for herself. You'll only be at home for another two years and it's good that she's taking the steps not only to help you but to grow into the next part of her life."

Quinn grinned at Rachel's profile, "How'd you get so smart?"

"A steady diet of _Lifetime_ movies."

A stunned pause.

"Kidding."

"Oh thank God."

* * *

As Rachel placed Quinn's bag on the kitchen table, she said, "I know this is your house but can I get us something to drink?"

"There's some organic carrot apple ginger juice in the fridge."

"Really? That's my favorite!"

Quinn smiled, "I happen to know that. Glasses are in the second cabinet to the left of the fridge."

As Rachel poured the juice into the glasses, she said, "You're the best not-girlfriend ever." She thought about that for a moment then said, "I apologize. That probably sounded incredibly insensitive to your feelings."

"No problem and about the juice? I aim to please, ma'am."

Rachel was visibly relieved that she hadn't hurt the other girl. "And that you do."

They both took a seat after Rachel again helped Quinn elevate her leg.

Quinn sipped at her juice and stared at the table.

Rachel finally broke the silence, "Eyes up, unfairly beautiful girl." Quinn looked up and saw the other girl smiling sweetly at her, "This is the part where you tell me why you were so angry after Glee and why you think you need therapy. In case you missed our bookmark in the conversation."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Oh, that's right, now I know why I called this meeting. Anyway, you know how hard it is for me to talk about my feelings, don't you?"

Rachel nodded.

"And you know I've been so conditioned by my family and their version of religion that I find it doubly, no feel free to quadruple that, difficult to talk about sexual issues?"

Rachel nodded again.

"Let me preface this by saying that I _know_, I knowIknowIknow that the tango you did with Brit Brit was pure theater but…when I watched it? Can you please just listen to this next part without interjecting anything? I need to say it all. And some of it won't be nice."

"Of course."

"When I watched it, watched you performing a dance version of sex, I was filled…no—let me use the cliché because it fits—I felt so consumed with rage I couldn't believe it. It literally took my breath away. The idea that you'd give yourself to…"

She shook her head as her face flushed bright red and continued, "I'm telling you this because I want to be honest but I know it's fucked up okay? Just the idea, that visual, that you'd ever be with anyone but me made me want…it made me to hurt you, Rachel."

She took a few panicky breaths through her nose. "And I understand that means I'm possessive…sexually possessive of you at a level that scares me. News flash! I know that's completely wrong and pathological and naturally I wouldn't and won't hurt you because I really love you so much but it…it frightened me that those thoughts popped into my head without my wanting them there. And I forced them down but all I could think about during Glee was getting out into the hall and humiliating and hurting everyone in my path because only that could give me relief. And again, I know it's fucked up. But that's how I deal with insecurity and it has to change. I mean, it _has _to. I'm completely fucked up emotionally and I need help. I can say this for myself. Even though I felt it, I saw it from a distance today and I kept my mouth shut and tried to get away from you because I was scared I'd say something mean and I sort of did but I didn't do anything to anybody else because I kept my mind on you and what you'd want me to do. But then I suddenly knew that all I wanted to do was tell you and only you, explain myself to you even if it made you hate me for how messed up I am."

She took a few deep breaths and Rachel thought she'd never seen anyone looking so defeated, so deflated.

"Thank you for explaining and I don't hate you, Quinn. Our friendship, the esteem I have for you? They're not one bit diminished. I'm not shocked or frightened or even the least bit weirded-out by what you've just told me. Remember, I've known you for a decade. But, yes baby, you do need help. You may be able to stop your behavior but your feelings will keep coming up unless they're addressed. You need help so you don't have those feelings anymore, so you can have a happier life. And so it's two for two for the Fabray ladies today. I'm proud of you for recognizing what you need and you should be proud of yourself."

Quinn stared at Rachel, "I'm proud of my mom but I'm not proud of myself. For what? I'm completely fucked-up. Yay? Go team go?"

"Very well. You'll work up to pride. Let me ask you this. Do you think your mother will support you in your seeking therapy?"

Quinn thought about it for a long few moments. "I think she will. She's really trying to be more supportive. I mean, I know she'll pay for it if I ask and she shamed my father into paying for my health insurance. But she'll probably want to know why."

"Okay, and what will you tell her?"

"What do you think I should tell her?"

"I think it's your decision."

"I guess…I could tell her it was about adjusting after the divorce and Beth."

"Yes, that's true. You could lie about it."

"You think I should tell her the truth?"

"I think you should tell her what will further a more honest relationship. My two cents."

"But…" Quinn sat with the thought and sighed, "I don't know how to say it, Rachel. How can I say it?"

Rachel bit her lip then said, "Do you want me to help you tell her?"

Quinn looked up hopefully, "Would you?"

Rachel sighed deeply, "Yes. But before you agree to that? Understand if I talk to her about your problem, I'll have to be more pointed with her than with you. When we talk about what you do, we both already know and it's shorthand. As harsh as it sounded when I talked with you, it would have to be a lot more graphic for her to understand what you've been doing. Do you see my point?"

"I do. I think you should do it because I think I'm already choking about thinking about telling her what I've been doing—and you never choke."

"No. I don't. My fathers did a lot of research into the best therapists in Lima dealing with teenage violence and—"

"I don't want to see yours. Conflict of interest."

"Fine—they had the name of a female doctor as well."

"Good. I'd rather talk to a woman."

"And obviously, she'll be gay-friendly so no worries there."

"Right. Gays R Us."

"Something like that." They looked at each other for a few moments before Rachel said, "Quinn, I'm feeling a little trepidation about talking to your mother. I will, of course, but it will sound so…"

"What—like what it actually has been?"

"Yes, and I have visuals but I wouldn't hurt your feelings when you need my support more for anything in the world."

"Visuals, huh?"

"Yes. Screenshots and photos."

Quinn felt a ripple of horror run over her skin but said, "Maybe I need to hear and see it, Rachel."

"Maybe you do. But the messenger bearing bad news doesn't always want to give it. Do you understand that?"

"I wish I hadn't given you bad news to bear. And that sounded almost like Bad News Bears. I'd never thought of that."

"I prefer the original movie."

"Me too."

"We're aesthetes, Quinn."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"I'll have dad call that woman doctor whose name escapes me and tomorrow we'll talk to your mom, if she's free."

"She'll be free. I'll make sure."

"I'd better go so dad can catch the doctor." Rachel pulled Quinn into a tight hug, "I'm here. I'll be here tomorrow and no matter what I say, I'm going to be trying to help you."

"I know. I love you, Rachel."

Rachel pulled away, "Yes. I believe you."

The lack of reciprocation stung Quinn but she nodded. "Thanks for listening."

"Thank you for talking."

* * *

The next day had been weird, and weird and weird. No one on the campus knew what to do with slushies or themselves. The regime was the same but it was different and everyone could feel it. No one knew what was permissible. Quinn enjoyed that. Universal fear.

Santana was on triple high alert. The only person more dear to her than Brittany was Quinn and although she could and had and would happily kick the girl's ass, she saw something was throwing her best friend off her usual game. She felt like her eyes were going to pop out of her head on the lookout for trouble.

They finally met in an empty Cheerios locker room, where Quinn said, "At ease, Mr. Kim, before you sprain something."

"Thanks, Captain Janeway, but no random quote from _Star Trek Voyager _is making me stand down although I appreciate the thought. And I am _so_ not Harry fucking Kim."

"I know that. You're B'Elanna Torres. More talented, prettier and super-violent." Quinn smirked, "Plus obvs, she was so biracial PR on the show."

"PR? Oh no you didn't! She was a biracial Klingon, bitch."

"Like there's much difference between _you_ and a Klingon?"

Santana blinked, "You know what? That's all sorts of just wrong for you to say out loud but I'll accept it as a compliment."

Quinn shoulder-bumped the girl and grinned, "As intended."

Santana lowered her voice, "Serious up? What's going on?"

"You can make fun of me all you want but I'm going to ask my mom to get me therapy."

Santana sat with that for a few moments and then said, "Good."

"Good? No joking—no laughing at me?"

"_Dios mio._ I want to kill you every day but don't pretend we're not best friends. You _need_ help Q. You always have. You know why I am what I am and I'm not stopping and can't until we get B out of high school. You can ease off and _I'll_ put the pedal down. We can talk about how it's gonna go but running it now is hurting you wholesale. I mean, I'm just a fucked-up kid who doesn't know how to commit but you're fucked up. No disrespect intended."

"None taken."

"Fine. Good for you. Just get some help if you need it. And…" Santana shook her head as if the thought appalled her but she voiced it, "You know, don't you? I can't be happy unless Britts and you are happy? So fuck the fuck off or whatever but you know what I actually mean."

"San?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not like you. What I feel—it's so bad. It's so bad."

"I know it is."

"Do you?"

"Sure. I want to hurt people who hurt Britts or you or me or now the hobbit. You want to hurt the hobbit because you're in love with her. It's 57 kinds of fucked up and you need help. What's the secret there? Although I'd never say that shit to anybody else."

Quinn took a breath to speak and Santana interrupted her, "Do NOT say something sappy we'll both regret. Please? Just get help and know I'm always on your side."

She tapped Quinn on the chest gently, "I have to follow Britts but I'd never leave you, otherwise. I have a feeling we'll all end up together somewhere anyway. All of us plus the midget. Count on it while you're crying, Q. And please don't cry because the only thing that wrecks me more than B crying is you."

The verb that was supposed to go there was gone and Quinn knew Santana had left it off intentionally.

Quinn put her head on Santana's shoulder and the girl wrapped her slender arms around her, "Good for you and for the help our God must surely be sending the light to give you,_ mi hermosa."_

That Santana was quite a bit more religious than she was no secret to Quinn. She always had been very, very Catholic although she'd fought it tooth and nail. That it felt like a blessing for Quinn to have someone so _connected _on her side was an actual relief. She didn't laugh although she knew how much the thought that bubbled up in her mind would please her friend to think of herself as a favored lieutenant of a sort of mob boss God in the sky. Quinn believed in God. Santana seemed to not just believe but to know God because her life had a greater purpose and a meaning and she'd shown it every day of their lives together. Quinn pulled her closer. Friends like her didn't exist. Except she did. _Ipso facto_, God existed.

Thank you, God, Quinn thought as she smiled in Santana's arms.

* * *

Quinn had told her mother that she and Rachel would like to talk to her for perhaps an hour after school and her mother had readily agreed.

As the girls and Judy had taken seats across from each other, with three glasses of sparkling water ready for the fray, Judy coughed as she looked at the incredibly serious eyes looking into hers.

She mustered what she thought might be a believable chuckle before saying, "Honestly, if all you have to tell me is that Quinn is gay, I hardly think this needs to look like a funeral."

Quinn gaped at her mother, "Why would you think that?"

"Rachel, who has two fathers, needs to help you talk to your mother about something serious? What am I supposed to think?"

Quinn nodded at that sensible putting of two and two together, "That wasn't what we wanted to talk about but before you backpedal, I _am _gay. Completely and utterly gay."

Judy gulped but nodded and took a sip of water. "I'm not shocked, actually. And all I want is for you to be who you are and happy, sweetheart."

Quinn shook her head, violently, as if she had ear-mites, because she couldn't quite believe it, "How can you say that?"

"What?"

"That you only want me to be happy?"

Judy looked into her daughter's anguished eyes and said, "Because I'm not your father and I'm no longer an extension of your father. I'm your mother and I love you and if you're gay, I think nothing differently or less of you. Your being gay is something we'll certainly talk about but not like in an 'this is an issue to deal with' way. It's a non-issue to me. Like the color of your hair, although if you dyed it red, I'd have things to say."

"I would too, Judy."

Judy smiled at Rachel.

"What do you need to tell me?"

Rachel took a deep breath. "This has nothing to do with her being gay. This is very serious, Judy, and it's something that Quinn and I have talked about. We've agreed that she needs to seek professional help and she's given me carte blanche to explain it to you."

Judy blanched at this but nodded, "I see, but if I may ask, why you?"

"Because I'm her primary victim. I know more about her problem than anyone—even her, frankly."

"Victim? What do you mean?"

Rachel pulled a notebook and a file from her backpack but didn't open them. "Your daughter is what I suppose one would call a bully. But to call her a bully is like calling Tyrannosaurus Rex a garden lizard. She has bullied everyone in school since first grade but I am and always have been her primary target."

Judy was not particularly surprised, because she'd imagined something like that had gone on between the girls. She was surprised, however, by Quinn's stricken, pale face and Rachel's gentle forthrightness.

"I'd imagine you're imagining something like schoolyard taunts and teasing. Your daughter is craftier and far crueler than that. When I was twelve, I went to a therapist to deal with my anxiety and depression over my school life. You have to understand, Quinn has always been the prettiest and most popular kid in school so she sets the tone. She has quite successfully made me a pariah—a leper—to everyone. Since we were six, anyone who even tried to offer me friendship? She warned them off. I don't have friends. With very infrequent instances, I've lived my life in isolation because she's made it harmful for people to like me."

Judy stared at her daughter, whose lips had become incredibly pale.

"When I went to my therapist at age twelve, he asked me to keep a two week diary of what Quinn said or did to me, as she was my primary antagonist. Understand when I show you this, she's my primary but she made other people happy and willing to hurt me like this. So multiply it by three to five per day."

She pulled out a small black and white notebook and handed it to Judy. "It's pretty self-explanatory—and it's only two weeks."

Judy read the small neat writing that detailed her daughter's treatment of the girl in front of her.

And the woman could scarcely believe her eyes. Multiple times per day abuse of the tiny girl with big brown eyes in front of her.

Once she finished reading, she said, "That's simply appalling."

"It was, Judy. But I now think of that time as our salad days—those golden days before things got really hard."

Now it was Judy's turn to pale.

"When we got to high school, everything changed for the worse."

"I think of this as Cheerio Quinn. Do you know what a slushie facial is?"

"No."

"Lucky you. Do you know what a slushie is?"

"Yes—that frozen drink you can get at Quik Trips."

"Exactly. Except at William McKinley, they're weapons. When you walk along at my high school, you can, if you're lucky enough to be singled out by Quinn Fabray, be hit in the face with 40 ounces of frozen corn syrup any day of the week." Rachel opened her file and pushed a few pictures of herself obviously taken in the school bathroom. One purple slushie, one green, one red.

Quinn hadn't seen them before and the muscles in her jaw worked as she kept her composure.

"I'm not particularly interested in documenting my abuse, Judy, but my fathers insisted. A slushie in your face feels exactly like plunging yourself into icy water, which is exquisitely painful much less having it hurled onto you by surprise. It is actually physically painful. Do you understand?"

Judy nodded.

"As a comparison, if you hit a policeman with a feather pillow, it could quite legitimately legally be considered assault. This is, quite legally and technically, a violent assault against me. I live in fear of them; I dread them but I put up with them. I take two changes of clothing just in case every day. Do you see the beauty in a slushie? If you were just hit and no one could see? That'd be one thing. But you have to walk down the hall with everyone knowing that you're a victim of violence. That's really what they want. The physical pain doesn't matter—they're gunning for the emotional pain. Quinn has thrown exactly one on me. She has sanctioned by commission or omission 157 others since we started high school."

Judy gasped. "No…_no_." Judy shook her head at her daughter.

"Quinn?"

"Rachel?"

"Have you ordered slushies or ignored every one you knew would be thrown on me?"

"Yes."

"How long would it take to stop that happening to me?"

"The ninety seconds it took today."

"Right. That's one part. The physical assaults. Let me show you examples of what your daughter does to me online, which is about the same thing she's done multiple times every single day at school in front of multiple witnesses to further shame me the better. Well, excepting the fact my fathers couldn't take screen shots of what she says at school. These are pretty much illustrative of the whole and I only include what other Cheerios say because need I remind you who their captain is? And remember, this behavior makes me fair game for the whole school. And it's every single day, weekends included."

She pushed page after page of screenshots forward and as Judy perused them, she could scarcely believe how vile and violently nasty her daughter and her friends had been to the small girl sitting across from her. Tears of disbelief began to fill her eyes.

"These are photos of the pornographic graffiti Quinn herself constantly refreshes on our bathroom walls, no matter how often I clean them off."

She pushed them forward and the older woman gasped yet again, shaking her head. She looked at her daughter, who'd lowered her head and was crying silently.

"Quite often, Judy, she or one of her friends corners me in a secluded spot and nearly everyone's bigger than me, as you can probably imagine, and she either verbally humiliates me or threatens me with physical harm."

Rachel looked at Quinn and took her hand, which the girl grabbed onto like a life preserver.

"People think things like this are 'oh well—it's just high school—it happens.' But I ask you Judy. If, let's say, in quote-unquote real life a man isolated your daughter socially, enabled physical assaults against her 158 times, repeatedly told her things like she should kill herself, be sterilized, threatened to burn her clothing and—oh well—there are so many I can't even think of all the permutations of humiliating violence to give you examples of, frankly. Plus encouraged all of his friends to do the same, drew pornographic pictures of her in places everyone could see to humiliate her, and frequently trapped her in secluded places in order to frighten her and encouraged his willing friends to do the same, what's the best possible spin you could put on that behavior?"

Judy's voice was leaden, "I couldn't put any positive spin on that behavior at all."

"I can't either. Quinn is an intelligent, witty, warm, loyal and gentle person I feel honored to call my friend, Judy. But she's also a rapidly escalating compulsively violent abusive predator. I don't use those words lightly. I know what they mean because I've felt them. She's limited herself in what she's willing to do only because of societal pressure. She'd do more, I'm quite sure, if she could get away with it. She has a very serious problem and she needs serious help. Am I right Quinn?"

Judy looked at her daughter—someone she apparently didn't know at all. The girl looked vacant although her tears were flowing, "Completely."

Judy looked at their joined hands, "How can you even touch her?"

Rachel smiled, "Because Quinn is just maladjusted; she's absolutely no sociopath. I truly believe she has only has a compulsivity toward violence borne out of insecurity. At least that's what my therapist said back in the day and I've seen the truth of it. He breeds bullmastiffs and he said that, yes they're protective but that the worst behavioral problem you could face was not an overly aggressive dog but a fear-biting dog. He said it was so easy to know what would set an aggressive dog off but the fear-biter? The insecure and frightened dog? Could and would bite you at any time. They needed more attention and help than simply aggressive dogs. Quinn's a fear-biter, Judy."

"I am so right now going to ignore the fact you just compared me to a fear-biting bullmastiff."

"And I'll so ignore the last ten years."

Quinn grinned, bleary-eyed, at Rachel, "Snap! I got the bargain!"

"I'll say."

Rachel smiled at Quinn and said, "Stop crying or I'll cry and you know nobody on Earth looks sadder than me when I cry. I specialize in it and on command. Brittany's a close second admittedly. I think it's the size of my eyes."

"Or like maybe your nose?"

"Judy, may I use violence now that she's brought my nose into question?"

Judy just tried to keep up. She'd just heard a truly horrific exposition of her daughter's deep psychological problems given by the person who'd been most victimized by them and now they were joking together as if it were nothing.

She said, "Quinn's fair game, Rachel."

"Mom!"

"You earned it."

Rachel beamed. "I am a GOLDEN GOD."

"Whatever."

"The intelligence never stops."

Quinn glared at her.

"You've been crying, baby. Go wash your face. I want to talk to your mother privately."

"Why?"

"What about the word private don't you understand?"

"Fine. But I'm mad."

"Fine. But color me surprised."

"Fine."

"Fine."

* * *

As Quinn flounced off and up the stairs to the bathroom, Rachel lowered her voice and spoke very quickly. "I know all of this must be shocking and disappointing to you and I completely understand that. But I have to say something that may seem impertinent for a 16 year old and I sincerely beg your pardon if I offend you with this because I mean no offense or disrespect. But, Judy, at all costs? I have to protect Quinn. She's truly my main concern."

Judy was so astonished by this that she could only nod.

"If I may be so bold to say? Quinn doesn't need more shame or guilt. She _really_ doesn't need them. She's already ashamed and already feels guilty. And to be honest, as disappointed as you might justifiably be with her right now? _I'm_ the injured party. My _fathers_ by proxy have been the injured parties—and for 10 years. And you can see we're all Team Quinn to get her back on track. We want her healthy and happy and I hope that's what you want too."

"Of course that's what I want."

"Judy, I don't know you at all but I know what I know about Quinn. I just feel I have to say don't make this about you or your ex-husband. Quinn needs love and support now, not to hear from you how anything about you or her father having anything to do with her problems. It needs to be all about her. She's hurt. She's hurting. And I feel the need to say that because I went to school with a pregnant, homeless 15 year old child who got her first taste of slushie because her parents made her fair game. She suffered violence because you didn't protect her. No matter what she's done to me in the past, I believe in her, and I will always protect her. My parents will always protect her. She has a place to run. Please don't make her."

"I won't—but it _is_ shocking Rachel. I mean, gay? Who cares? But this violence…I just"

"I know. It'll be okay. She'll be okay. Promise. I'm very determined and she's going to therapy if I have to kick her there."

Judy looked at her for a few moments and finally said, "You're so kind. She's clearly in love with you but you love her, too, don't you?"

"No. I _esteem _her. Let's play it like that for the time being. Love's not on the table, if you understand me. Can't be."

"You're smarter than I was at your age."

"I'm frankly smarter than I want to be regarding your daughter."

Judy studied Rachel and said, "I think I've met my only future daughter-in-law."

"I know right? Absolutely! Don't tell her!"

"Never!"

* * *

"Quinn?"

Quinn was snuggled in bed hugging a stuffed octopus Brittany had given her named Doubleduplexlegs which, in Brit-speak was massively right.

"Yeah? Finished dissing me with my mom?"

"Is that what you really think I did?"

"No. I'm just—"

"I told you it would be hard baby."

"Yeah…it was and it's no wonder you can't love me, you know? I'm an animal—you said so yourself."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Quinn? It was an analogy for something really serious. But you've tried to tell me what I can and can't do for 10 years. I do love you. I think that's sort of obvious."

Quinn rocked back and forth for a moment, "Yeah, but only as a friend."

Rachel barked out a laugh, "That's fucking epic, considering, Fabray."

"I know."

There was a long silence and finally Rachel said, "I know what you're thinking. Hold still. And I mean seriously don't move, okay?"

Quinn nodded.

Rachel leaned in and gave Quinn not a peck and not a lover's kiss but a somewhere in between kiss on her lips.

As she pulled away, she said, "Never tell me what's impossible or possible between us, Quinn. You don't know. I think I do. All things are possible."

**A/N That's all I have tonight people. Longest and hardest chapter for this story.**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**This short chapter includes some school, some Quinn therapy and Faberry. I very much appreciate all of you who are reading and thank you for your comments. Sorry for the delay but RL is a bitch sometimes and I wanted to get something out to you.**

* * *

Karofsky showed up in school the next day with dark glasses over his eyes. Rachel was angered by the sight, Brittany was saddened and Quinn and Santana were embarrassed. Finally, both of them thought but didn't articulate, even as they glanced at each other. Finally embarrassed by what they'd let go on for so long.

"Stay here, please, and don't interfere," Rachel said as she left them to approach him. "I'm gratified that you were able to come back to school today. I hope that means your eyes will suffer no long-term damage, David."

He nodded down at her, "Yeah. They'll be fine but I gotta wear these glasses for a few days. The doc said the flushing was the best thing you could have done and maybe saved me having major problems with vision so I guess—"

"Say no more. It's not, as the vernacular goes, a big deal."

"Seeing's a big deal. I don't see so well." He paused. "I mean, in a lot of ways, I guess."

"No, you really don't." She lowered her voice, "Although I don't like to hit anyone when they're down, I believe this may be the only opportunity I'll ever have to speak when you'll listen. You've slushied me 79 times, David. As you now know, it hurts even if you don't have sensitive eyes. You've hit me in the eyes on numerous occasions. Hold out your hand."

When he extended his hand, she put her right hand in his palm. "Look how physically small I am compared to you. And I'm a girl. Can you honestly say to me that you think it's okay to hit a girl?"

"I don't hit you!"

"So if I took a baseball and threw it _at_ your face and hit you _in _the face, by your logic, I didn't hit you either, right?"

He looked down at the small hand in his. The girl really was incredibly tiny. He squeezed her hand gently before dropping it.

"Every person you bully has feelings, David. We all have feelings. Think about your eyes next time you consider slamming Kurt into lockers."

The boy flinched, "Why bring him into this?"

"Because he's my friend and you do actually hit him as you whimsically define it. You actually put your hands on him all the time, which I suppose you feel free to do, since he's a boy, not a girl like me and—"

He suddenly loomed over her, "Don't! Stop talking!"

They both heard Santana's raised voice, although she was far away enough not to be able to hear them, "Hey! Think twice, bitch. Don't step to my hobbit."

He immediately stepped back and whipped off his glasses and Rachel was shocked by how blood-shot and swollen his eyes were as they stared into hers, even as she heard him hissing under his breath. "I get it, okay? You _know_, right? Just please stop talking about it."

"I know?" Rachel looked at him in complete stupefaction. What did she know? As she ran her mind over what he could possibly mean, the clouds almost immediately vanished. _Oh._ She both backpedaled mentally even as she stepped closer to him so that she could lie to him quietly, "Right. But no. I—well, that is to say, I've suspected but no. I'm not talking about that issue at all, David, and I certainly have never spoken about that to another person and never would. I'm only talking about your hitting people and calling them names. That's all."

He stared at her, "Really?"

Rachel nodded vehemently. "Of course. Your bullying is public behavior, David. I'd never talk about you personally to anyone. That would be impertinent and inappropriate, because to paraphrase Ludacris, I don't know you like that."

"No you don't."

She nodded again and stared up into his very frightened and angry face, "Because I don't think anything I have to say to you personally would be particularly well-received, I think I'll leave it unsaid." She smiled at the boy in front of her, who was evidently on an IV drip of internalized homophobia, "As you're undoubtedly aware, this is a tremendous sacrifice on my part which I hope you'll appreciate because I do like the sound of my own voice."

"Yeah, you do." He half-smiled and his posture changed from high alert to slightly more relaxed. "And yeah, I can't talk about some stuff. I have to put my glasses back on but I have to say this with them off. I'm sorry for hurting you so many times. I…I guess I'll have to think about it a lot more so I can be as sorry as I should be. But I promise I will—I _will_ think about it."

She was surprised by but accepted his pulling her into a gentle hug. "I'm sorry. Thank you, Rachel," he whispered.

She hugged him tightly and whispered back at him, "You're welcome. Remember this feeling. This is acceptance and forgiveness. Go thou and do likewise."

He whispered, "We're Jewish. You shouldn't quote Jesus."

"We can quote anyone we wish to. And look who knows the quote?"

"Hey—" he smiled as he pulled away and shrugged as he put his glasses on, speaking at a normal volume, "You hear stuff."

"Yes. And I read stuff because two of the loves of my life are Gentiles. And Jesus was a Jew. We're His people. Get over it."

"Whatever."

"Seriously? That's the best you got, big guy?"

He grinned at her, "For now."

"Work on new material, including not knocking Kurt around, okay?"

He saw nothing in her eyes but a request—absolutely no extortion, no 'or else.' Just a request. From a very small girl.

"Okay. And I'll make Z stop too."

She gave him her brightest smile, "Thank you, David."

As he watched her turn and walk back to her friends, all friendly and peppy, he knew what had possessed him to attack her in the first place. She actually liked herself. Just like Kurt.

* * *

Quinn walked into her new therapist's office on the next Monday with a mixture of trepidation and hope. She hoped this would be good for her but having never been fond of talking about her feelings, even with people she knew, talking about them with a stranger seemed faintly ominous. She thought about the discussion she'd had with Rachel as the girl had dropped her off for her appointment:

"_Therapy is private, Quinn, so I won't ask how things went or what you talked about and you shouldn't feel like you need to share anything at all about what goes on unless you really want to. I'll probably only ask if you felt comfortable with her. Nobody necessarily hits it off with every doctor, as you know, but it's more important to feel comfortable with a therapist than with any other doctor. Even your gynecologist. Although, even in saying that, I realize that hitting it off with a gynecologist seems a bit—" _

_"Full stop. Thank you, Rachel. Message received." _

Rachel had nodded curtly, much in the way Quinn nodded at the very tall and slender lady with long salt-and-pepper hair in front of her who was saying, "I'm Agnes Southerland. You may call me Agnes or Dr. Southerland depending upon what degree of formality you require from a doctor." She extended her hand, "And what shall I call you? Quinn or Ms. Fabray?"

Quinn shook the woman's hand and said as she looked up into the woman's kind blue eyes, "Quinn. And I'll call you Dr. Southerland. You'll find I'm the sort of person who needs to remember her place."

"Fair enough. A pleasure to meet you Quinn. Come in." As Quinn crutched into the office, she felt immediately soothed by the fact it was all dark wood and, best of all, painted green.

"A rather persistent young woman named Rachel Berry called my secretary three times today to remind her to remind me that you need to elevate your leg and that you should have assistance with that."

"Oh my God," Quinn rolled her eyes, "Typical Berry. I'm so sorry."

"No apologies needed and let's not let Rachel down."

Dr. Southerland helped Quinn seat herself and put an ottoman under her cast. "Is that comfortable?"

"Yes."

The doctor sat fairly close to her in another chair facing her and scrutinized Quinn's face. "No, you don't need a couch and yes, I'm going to face you and no I won't use a desk as a distancing method to establish my authority."

Quinn tilted her head at this. "Something tells me this isn't your opening gambit with all your patients."

"No. It's not. But the same young lady who bullied my secretary about your leg suggested, firmly, that I treat you as if you were an intelligent adult rather than a 16-year-old child with a cast on her leg."

"Bullied? How apropos." Quinn ran her hands through her hair, "And I am _so_ not going to kill her. I apologize. She's not only tiny physically but a tiny bit out of her mind about this so, let's just say, when Rachel gets a project going, she's relentless."

"And you're a project, are you? I can't help noting that the man who called for your appointment, a Mr. Jacob Berry, and your exceedingly helpful friend share the same last name. Would you care to shed some light on why it is that they are so involved in getting you into therapy as opposed to you or your parents?"

Quinn's face hardened as she snapped her fingers, "I'm going to assume you're not impugning the motives of Jacob or Rachel. Am I correct in that assumption?"

The doctor's mouth twitched in what looked like pleased amusement, "Entirely. Merely a request for elucidation, Quinn."

Quinn relaxed under the woman's intelligent, warm gaze. "I can give you the Readers' Digest version of who I am, who they are and why I'm here. How about that?"

"My appointments are 50-minute hours, Quinn. That said, I always set aside two hours for a new client but only charge them for one. I want you to have the time to tell me what you need to."

"I find concision helpful when I'm talking about emotions."

"I'll remember that."

Quinn pulled a file folder and a notebook from her bag, then told the doctor a condensed story of her relationship with her parents, Beth and Shelby and the whole Puck/Finn clusterfuck. After that, she gave a longer explanation of her problem using her rendition of Rachel's exposition and explained that the girl had provided her with the visual aids she presented as well as her diary. It took nearly the first hour.

After Dr. Southerland perused the documents, she said, "I must say, no one I've ever seen has ever brought visual documentation of their issues to me."

"As I said, Rachel's involved and she's nothing if not thorough."

"I can see that. So, correct me if I'm wrong: you're violently abusive to others and in the past year you've given birth to a child, been forced into homelessness, given the child up to the birth mother of the person you've most abused, watched your parents divorce and faced a realization about your homosexuality?"

"Basically."

"But no pressure, huh?"

Quinn semi-smiled for the first time at the doctor, who smiled warmly back at her.

"Quinn, I'm glad you're here. Now that you've told me something about yourself, can I tell you what sort of therapist I am so that you can see whether you think we might be a good match?"

"Of course."

"I'm not what most people think of when they think of therapy. I'm not a Freudian or a Jungian therapist—someone who delves into the past or the metaphorical reasons for what's hurting you. I'm a cognitive behavioral therapist. This is, I suspect, given your description of the Berrys, why they chose a CBT therapist for their daughter and for you. It doesn't go on for years and for certain problems, like yours, it can be astonishingly helpful in a very limited number of sessions, if you give it work and respect."

She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees.

"We'll be focusing on your thoughts and your habitual reactions to them. A therapist using this approach works from the premise that your thought patterns cause your emotional reactions and those reactions lead to your behavior. We'll find out what your thought patterns are through a series of homework exercises. I'll be asking you to keep a detailed notebook regarding your thoughts and reactions to certain triggers we'll identify together. You'll have to meet me halfway. This is not 'tell me what you've been feeling for years' kind of therapy. This is therapy that _you'll_ be guiding through your interaction with me as you learn to recognize what the connections are between what you're thinking to what you're feeling and doing. What's good about this form of therapy is that I'll merely be helping you help yourself, teaching you to counsel yourself, if you will, and helping you unlearn your habitual reactions to your thoughts and emotions that lead you to these behaviors. It's not for everyone or every problem but frankly, Quinn, I firmly believe this type of therapy can give you fairly swift relief from your suffering _vis a vis _this bullying issue."

"That would be the best news I've had in my life beside—well, okay, that's good news."

"Go ahead. What's the best news in your life?"

Quinn stared at the women. "Rachel forgives me. That's the best news."

"She has a lot to forgive."

"She has more to forgive than she should."

"Which is her decision."

"It is but I love her. And that, I suppose, is where we have to start. I love her."

Dr. Southerland sank back into her chair. "Why is that where we have to start?"

Quinn stared down at the hardwood floor in front of her and whispered, "Because it's…the beginning of everything."

"We start at you love Rachel?"

"No. I don't love Rachel. I'm in love with Rachel. We start at that and I hurt her all the time and…" she waved her hand, "what the fuck ever else."

"I think you'll find if we begin by working specifically on the 'what the fuck ever else,' you'll be able to stop hurting people in the way you do, Rachel included."

* * *

As they continued to talk, Quinn relaxed. This was good. The woman was smart, funny and didn't treat her like a kid. The second hour was ending. Dr. Southerland said, "I suppose, as ordered, I should tell you that you need to text Rachel to come get you."

Quinn blushed and sent the text.

The doctor gave her a notebook. "If you flip through this, it's self-explanatory. This is your first homework assignment. We identify your triggers. Just read it—fill it out and let's find out how we can conspire together to help you. You're not alone now, and I plan to see you next week, same time, same Bat channel if that's good for you."

"It is."

"Quinn?"

"Dr. Southerland?"

"After next week, I think you'll be better served by two-per-week therapy. Unless you present something far different than what you're presenting today, I think we can knock this out of the park pretty quickly. I shouldn't actually voice that, professionally, but you're motivated and I'm always happy to have a motivated client."

Quinn sat with that for a second. "You're a doctor. I'm not a patient?"

"Not to me. You're a client. A person I'm working with—not upon. I like working _with_. I'm a very experienced therapist but my forte is in treating acute psychological problems troubling otherwise mentally healthy people. You're not, at first blush, at all mentally ill. You're severely off-balance for a number of reasons you understand. I've sent many people I've done assessments with to, let's say, the ER of mental illness. I don't keep the truly mentally ill because I'm not that kind of doctor. I help people who can help themselves. That's my specialization as a doctor. And I believe you can help yourself."

Quinn rocked in place for a few moments, "So I'm salvageable?"

"Even the truly ill are salvageable. But you? Completely."

"Good to know."

"I'd imagine it must be. And so, since you've texted her, I get to meet this Rachel Berry person?"

Quinn closed her eyes and thought, 'fuck' but said, "I guess you will."

* * *

Rachel entered the doctor's office for the second time and was surprised to see a woman who must be the doctor standing beside Quinn. "Hello. I'm Rachel Berry.'

They shook hands. "Agnes Southerland."

"Your reputation precedes you, Dr. Southerland. But of course I'll have to hear from Quinn how things went, if she even chooses to speak of it, in order to form an opinion of your—"

"Rach? I'd _so _like for you to stop talking."

Rachel blinked, having been rebuked for talking too much multiple times in the space of days, "I apologize, Dr. Southerland. I'm very protective of the few friends I have. Quinn especially."

"Might we have a moment, Quinn? Rachel and I? Or would that feel too awkward?"

Quinn glanced between them, "It's the most awkward thing ever but, sweetheart, what do you say?"

"I'm up for it."

Quinn glared at the doctor, "Nice is as nice does, Dr. Southerland."

"You're completely welcome to sit in on what I have to say."

Rachel looked from the doctor to Quinn. "I can speak to you privately. But I have no need to speak '_in camera'_ as the legal term goes. They're aren't any major secrets between us at this point."

"I believe there are many secrets you withhold from each other, Rachel."

Dr. Southerland watched the small girl's face change from pleasant to slightly ferocious. "Needs must, doctor. And I believe what we withhold from each other emotionally is nothing we need to address so quickly in her therapeutic relationship with you. Am I wrong?"

Dr, Southerland was actually impressed but decided to look amused, "You're not."

"I thought not." Rachel stood and said, "A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Southerland. Quinn, if you want another appointment, make it. But I won't be party to conversational supposition or opposition based on less than two hours of discussion about the last 10 years between us. I'll be in the car."

As she marched out, Quinn smiled at Dr. Southerland. "See what I mean?"

Agnes Southerland had rarely encountered a client as self-aware as Quinn or a patient's advocate as ferocious as Rachel.

"I do."

"I want another appointment but in the future? Don't side-swipe Rachel again or I won't be your client. Her comfort is as important than mine. And if you don't think that's cool? I'll understand and move on to someone else."

"You needn't move on. I found her charming."

"Charming? Diva storm-out Rachel? Really?" Quinn rolled her eyes, "Then there's a first time for everything."

* * *

Rachel sat in her car with the windows slightly cracked playing White Zombie's More Human Than Human, her secret go-to song for feeling slightly off-kilter or even pissed off. Why she was pissed off? Well, obviously. Quinn had a real advocate now—not just another kid talking shit to her or with her and now Quinn wouldn't need her. And yes, she was cursing in her own mind. She never did that. FUCK!

Quinn knocked on the window, out of nowhere, and Rachel jumped, immediately turning the volume down as she unlocked the door.

As Quinn got into the car she said, "White Zombie? Seriously?"

"It's very cathartic."

"True, if you need catharsis. What's up on the catharsis front?"

"You tell me. You just got out of therapy."

"You said you wouldn't ask questions about it."

"Just so. No catharsis incoming. Just a song."

"Rachel—I—"

"No really. I'm just listening to music."

"You're angry."

Rachel huffed and puffed and Quinn had decided she might be about to blow her little pig house in before the smaller girl said petulantly, "You don't love me!"

Quinn shook her head in astonishment. "Okay. Clearly this is the part of the story where I realize I'm dealing with another female. What exactly is wrong, Rachel?"

"I…I have no idea."

"Let me guess. You're upset because I'm talking to someone else?"

"I may…just may…be feeling anxious about that, yes."

"If I could kiss you, I could assuage your doubts because I have to tell you, I felt no desire to kiss Dr. Southerland."

Rachel frowned, "This is clearly a ruse to enable another kiss."

"Completely. I'm many things, Rach, but I'm no fool and when I see an advantage, I take it."

Rachel scowled at her. "Very well."

"Very well what? I don't get to kiss you until you give me verbal permission."

"Then kiss me. Decorously."

"You just used _that_ adjective in a request for a kiss?"

"An apt one."

"Okay, but, as ordered, this kiss will be pretty lame. Not to mention decorous."

"Shut up and kiss me."

Quinn gave Rachel a kiss on the lips that not even her grandmother would find fault with.

And then she raised an eyebrow, "Decorous enough?"

"I hate you."

Quinn smiled.

Perfect.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it. Short and sweet. More Faberry next time. Promise.  
**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**Rachel sounds off about Faberry; the girls come to a bit of a better understanding and everyone's favorite acts like an asshat.**

**Thanks to everyone who continues to read. Hey, I write for readers (Kanye shrug—and I'm laughing at that term).**

* * *

Rachel sighed as she drove while Quinn happily sang along with yet another XTC song that Rachel had added to her iPod because Quinn loved the band so much.

Kissing Quinn once as a kind gesture might have been passed off a charming aberration. But this was two times and the second she'd asked for. She'd clearly let the horse out of the barn or however that ridiculous phrase was phrased. Which wasn't actually all that ridiculous, now that it applied to her—and it wasn't Quinn's horse—it was hers. She'd kissed Quinn and had asked Quinn to kiss her and so kissing Quinn Fabray was becoming a problem. Or rather, wanting to kiss Quinn Fabray was becoming a problem.

She had literally no idea how to address that in her mind with the girl right beside her so she decided on what had gotten her through ten years of life with Quinn—ignoring it.

"So you like your doctor?"

Quinn forced herself not to even roll eyes because honestly? That was the best the girl could come up with?

But she forced a neutral-faux-Quinn tone, "I do. She doesn't treat me like a child and what she told me about our goals together seemed pretty spot-on for me. Plus she's really smart and funny. What's not to like? I was sort of dreading it and now I'm looking forward to it."

"That's very good to hear and I'm sorry if I was a bit obnoxious with her."

"Not at all. You were protective. Something that looks good on you, by the way."

Rachel sighed again…and then again more loudly, and Quinn punched the music off. "Oh for God's sake. I'm not going to play this game with you, Rachel. I hate to pull the 'I can see what you're thinking because you wear your emotions on both sleeves' card on you, sweetheart, but I'm going to. Stop worrying about kissing me. Don't think I'm jumping to huge emotional conclusions about it. So we both want to kiss each other. And yeah, we both like kissing each other and want to do it again. I wasn't under the impression that either of us thought we didn't or wouldn't. We're physically attracted to each other. We've discussed that. I know it doesn't mean anything else on your side."

And for some reason or exactly that reason, Rachel would decide in hindsight, that assumption was the straw that broke the hobbit's back.

Rachel whipped her car to the side of the road and turned the engine off. "Don't do that!"

Quinn stared at her, "What?"

"Don't do that—_thing_ you're doing right this minute. This isn't a fucking Broadway play—and I know that, thank you. This is our lives! So don't minimize what we're both feeling. We've made it all about you and you're the bad guy and I'm the good guy, right? And you're the fucked up one and I'm the fucked one and while that's a convenient story we can tell ourselves, that's not necessarily the whole story. I mean, of course, you're gorgeous and who wouldn't be attracted to you? But why do I want the person who's hurt me most in life? See?" She thumped her chest with her fist, "Why? I already know I actually _do_ love you and yes—news flash—in a romantic way—but what the _fuck,_ Quinn?"

Rachel was obviously so honestly angry she didn't even sound like herself and that fact and her cursing stunned Quinn into silence.

"No really? What am I supposed to think about that? Do you not understand that I'm in bed staring at the ceiling at night questioning my own motives? Am I supposed to just conveniently ignore the fact that I'm a fucking drama queen and that this could just be some way for me to make the perfect fairy-tale ending to this whole endless drama between us?"

She waved her hands in the air. "Lo and behold! In the fifth act, everything turns out perfectly! Because wouldn't that give a neat and clean dramaturgical meaning to ten years of meaningless pain in a way that would suit my artistic temperament right down to the ground? Or am I supposed to ignore the fact wouldn't that be sweet for me—that I get someone who's always going to feel just a little bit guilty and will always have to work harder and never feel equal in our relationship? Or even worse that I could just be getting off a little on keeping you suffering like you've made me suffer because now I have the upper hand? Do you understand my point that these are possibilities I'd be emotionally irresponsible not to consider if I deeply care about you? As I _do_?"

Quinn nodded.

"I know I love you. But I won't, I _will not_ give myself to you until I know I'm absolutely sure I love you for the right reasons and until I know you love me for the right ones because flip what I just said to the reverse—there are tons of fucked up reasons you could think you love me. I love you and want you so let's repeat you're not the only person trying to figure out what that means. If we did this, there wouldn't be some stupid high school 'let's have puppy emotions and take six months before we play under the shirt but over the bra' bullshit between us. We both know what we feel and want is a lot more adult than that but we already have a world of hurt between us. I won't hurt you more. And I won't let you hurt me more than you already have."

They looked at each other for what seemed like a very long time and before Quinn could even register what was happening, Rachel had released her seatbelt and launched herself at her. Quinn had no frame of reference for the kiss Rachel gave her. It was immediately deep, ravenous and it felt to Quinn almost mindless with desire. She was slightly trapped by her seatbelt but more trapped by Rachel who was kissing her like it was the one secret to her continued existence on the planet. The girl had a firm grip on Quinn's hair and ran the other hand over the blonde's body. All Quinn could think to do and it wasn't even really a thought, was to grip Rachel's shoulder with her one free hand. Rachel pulled Quinn's head back with her hair and abruptly left her mouth, a shocking loss only mitigated by the girl's kissing her neck, then sucking it forcefully.

"Fuck, Rachel!"

Rachel semi-chuckled, gently bit her, licked her neck from the bite to under and over her jaw and then plundered her mouth yet again.

It was exactly at the moment when Rachel was kissing her as deeply as Quinn could imagine was possible and had covered one of her breasts with her hand and was gently kneading it that she realized she was groaning really loudly—it was just that moment—when the slushie hit them.

Or the equivalent thereof. Three sharp raps on the driver's side window. Rachel jumped away from Quinn as if she'd been tased.

Their faces were flushed with desire and their hearts had been hammering already—but as they looked at the source of the interruption, they knew, yes, their faces could get redder and yes, their hearts could actually hammer harder.

Rachel rolled her window down and gave her show-face smile. "Hello, officer."

* * *

At that moment, Judy Fabray opened the door to Finn Hudson, and didn't his face bring back bad memories?

"Hi, Mrs. Fabray. I was wondering if Quinn's home. Thought she might be—her car's in the driveway."

Judy had always known Finn was a dim bulb but honestly. "Yes, Quinn can't drive. She had a medical appointment and Rachel's bringing her home. I expect her soon."

"Oh right. Yeah, about her foot, I guess."

Judy nodded.

"Could I come in and wait for her?"

No, Judy thought. "Of course."

* * *

The policeman looking in at them was a tall and older man with nearly white hair and fierce green eyes.

He smiled as he squatted by the car so he'd be eye level with them. "Here's the first thing? What I don't need? A driver's license or proof of insurance or registration. I also don't need to see two teens making out in public."

They both nodded at him like bobble-head dolls.

"Girls? Look at me. Believe it or not, I was a teenager once okay? I know how it is when you've got no place to go to do what teens do. Got me?'

They nodded again.

He softened his voice, "I'm going to give you some advice and because I'm a cop you have to listen. My daughter didn't have to but she did and she's married to a woman. I only stopped behind you to see if you needed roadside assistance. But then it looked like you were having a bit of a heated argument and then a bit of heated something else. You can't do that, girls. Beside the fact you were nearly in an illegal public lewdness zone in this instance, same-sex PDA in Lima? You need to watch out."

He ran his hand over his crew-cut.

"It's not just Podunk cities. You can get hurt just as easily in New York City. No matter where you are, you have to be vigilant. You're two women. Hold hands, kiss each other, walk arm in arm. Who cares? Just stay vigilant and watch your surroundings. Your safety comes first. You can't get too into what you're doing that you're oblivious. I watched you for five minutes. You didn't know a man was watching you for five minutes. Not 25 feet away. It could have been a man who hated you for homophobic reasons or it could have been one who wanted to force the idea that the next best thing to being together was being together with him. You put yourself at risk. But again, I've been a teen. Just take it somewhere private in the future, okay?"

Quinn was beside herself but could only agree as Rachel said, "Thank you, officer."

"One more thing," he said as he pulled his ticket pad from his back pocket and tore off a sheet.

"I need a ticket for…this?"

"No. I was wondering if I could get your autograph, Ms. Berry."

She blinked at him. "How do you know my name?"

He grinned at her, "My wife's been torturing me with musicals for 32 years. And about a year ago she got hold of the notion that we should go to high school show choir competitions. So I've seen you perform and my wife is an enormous fan. The first time she heard you sing, she said, 'Teddy, that girl's going to Broadway.' So if you could make it out to my wife Regina Miller, she'd really be happy to have it." He tapped the car, "And of course I only met you through a routine traffic stop."

Quinn watched Rachel hesitate, then she beamed as she took the paper from Officer Miller. She whipped out her phone and recorded the moment as Rachel signed it.

He read it out loud, "To Regina Miller. My first fan after my fathers. See you on Broadway. Bring Teddy to NYC with you. XO, Rachel Berry."

"She'll love it. Stay safe girls."

"Officer Miller?"

"Yes."

"Please tell her I actually would love to meet her, here or in New York."

He saluted her even as he said to Quinn, "If you're keeping this on the DL with your parents, you're already sporting two developing hickeys."

She nodded.

* * *

They drove in silence for a few moments before Rachel said, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I sort of just molested you."

"Uh, no. You desired me. But next time let me have two hands, too. Don't leave me trapped in my seatbelt."

"I also sort of tagged second base with you."

"Yes, you touched my breast. And I'm a little pissed that I didn't get the chance to touch yours before Officer Miller read us the 'How Gay Kids Make Out Safely' act."

"But he's right—I _so_ made two marks on you."

"And you're _so_ going to stop at McDonalds while I change into a turtleneck."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not."

A few moments went by after the change before Rachel said, "I should be honest. I did question it but I know I don't love you for dramaturgical reasons. I'm sure of that."

Quinn smiled as she looked out the windshield at the road before them, "That's a good thing. Because dramaturgically speaking, our story would have gotten boring after sixth grade."

"No. That's just when the story got going."

"No, angel. I like the lead up and the denouement, not the 'blam blam blam.'"

"High school's been the blam?"

"Wouldn't you say?"

"Maybe." Rachel paused for a long time. "Denouements are endings, Quinn."

"What have you been watching or reading? In everything but tragedy, Rachel, dramatic denouements are always beginnings."

Rachel smiled,"I like smart girls."

"I think you meant to say you like smart girl because that plural stuff gets on my nerves. HBIC, remember?"

"Oh right! The hallways. Is that where I know you from?"

"That wasn't funny."

"Santana would think so."

"Don't bring my lefty into it."

Rachel smiled. They were fine.

* * *

The rest of the car ride was music, music, music until they saw Finn's car in the Fabray driveway.

"Okay. It's on." Quinn said.

She grabbed her phone and Rachel grabbed her hand. "What are you doing? We don't know what he's doing here."

"What could Finn possibly be doing here but stirring trouble? Texting my posse."

Rachel grabbed Quinn's phone, "First of all, never say you have a posse again. Second? You are n_ot_ texting Santana. No. Nyet. Clear? If we need Santana we'll call her but when something's actually nothing? No one tends to make nothing something like Santana."

"You have a point."

"I always do."

"And a pointy head."

"I not only resent that, I'm remembering that comment."

"I'm kidding, sweetheart—you have a sweet little pumpkin head."

"You just said that? Keep digging, Quinn."

As they got out of the car and Quinn noted Rachel's body language, she said, "I'm really in trouble for the pumpkin thing, huh?"

"Like you don't know."

"Pumpkins are cute!"

"Two shovels deeper—just stop if you want to kiss me again and we both know you do."

"Like you don't?"

"Three point five shovels. Remember, I'm a woman. So I'm counting."

"Rachel?" Quinn tugged at Rachel's hand and pulled her to face her. "I'm sorry. I'm teasing you because I'm shy. I just had therapy for the first time, we just had one hell of a moment back there, and then a police moment and now we're about to have Finn moment so it's throwing me a little off balance and when I'm off-balance, I'm mean. But…" And then she couldn't help but laugh even as she said it because it was ridiculous, "I love your head and the shape of your head and please don't be mad. I'm sorry."

Rachel looked up at her and frowned. "I'll have you know that I'm perhaps just the slightest bit insecure about the size of my head. Everyone knows I have a particular sense of myself as a performer which may or may not be figuratively oversized but I can't help but see I have a slightly oversized head, literally."

Quinn blinked because it was completely true and she wanted to scream with laughter but there was a beautiful brown-eyed girl in front of her. "God gave you the head and the face you need for the stage, Rachel. It's perfect. If it were any smaller, I'd personally ask for a refund from God. Seriously."

Rachel sniffed. "That's somewhat mollifying."

Quinn smiled, "I love you, Rachel."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Quinn was getting used to awkward in her life. This was more so. Her not-boyfriend and so not-father-of-her child sitting with her mother as she and her not-but-almost-girlfriend and his ex-girlfriend walked into the room.

From what she'd read online, this was almost a true lesbian level of drama.

Judy stood and smiled at the girls in a way that said to Quinn, "Let me tell you what's going on with my face and we can smile and pretend like this isn't happening." So very Fabray.

"Finn was kind enough to stop by and voice his concerns about your injury, Quinn. I told him we certainly held no animosity for the past and that we appreciated his concern."

Quinn nodded even as Rachel frowned.

"Thanks, Finn. Want to leave?"

"Quinn!"

"Mom? I know my ex. Why are you here?"

Finn looked from Judy to Quinn and felt a sense of terror even as he said as he looked at the small girl before him, "I'm here to get Rachel."

Rachel shook her head, "_Get_ me?"

"Take you away from here. You know—whatever—this is wrong for you, Rachel."

Rachel shook her head again, "What, exactly, is wrong for me, Finn?"

His composure broke at that point and he raised his voice even as Quinn crutched slightly in front of Rachel as Judy joined her, "She's acting like she's your friend! She doesn't care about you! Don't you know that? Are you that stupid? She's playing you—I'm telling you!"

Rachel thought she'd been angry before but now she was seeing double, "Leave this house, Finn. And yes or rather no, I am not the person who should tell you that but you should leave right now. Quinn is injured but I won't hesitate to call Santana and Noah. They will come to take care of me. Leave. And leave me and Quinn alone."

"You're talking crazy! You need help. I'm not leaving."

Rachel grabbed her phone and texted Santana and Noah, "Finn. 911 at Q's house."

Judy said, "You need to leave Finn. This is ridiculous."

"Not without Rachel."

"I will call the police."

"Do it."

"Judy, don't. The cavalry's on the way."

Judy white-knuckled her phone in her hand but took some solace in the fact that neither Rachel nor Quinn looked particularly frightened of the large, angry young man in the room with them. They looked merely irritated.

There was a tense silence and maybe six minutes later they heard one car screech into the driveway.

Santana didn't even bother with knocking and Brittany was right behind her, followed by Puck.

"So hi there Judy and hi Q and R. It's good me and the crew were all playing us some COD when we gots the text. What's up with you and my girls, Frankenteen?"

Puck's face wasn't nearly as sardonic as Santana's. It was angry. "Yeah, bro. Wassup? Can't get girls so now you're scaring them?"

"I'm getting Rachel away from this—you all know as well as I do that—"

"Excuse me, Judy. Say one more word about Q, Finn, and me and Puck will so fucking end you. You don't get to step into my cap's home and diss her and her mother and her hospitality. Oh wait—you're only about throwing girls on the street when you're not happy with them, right? Fuck you, Finn. Fuck you and your self-righteous ignorant garbage."

Brittany nodded and said, "I can hurt you super easy, Finn. It's all Krav Maga because Rachel's been my secret Jew for like years so I take Israeli martial arts and stuff really seriously."

This was news to everyone in the house but years of dealing with Brittany allowed everyone except Finn to completely ignore what she'd just said.

Finn stared into the girl's serious face. Brittany was the least threatening person he knew but for some reason he was still sometimes more afraid of Brittany than anyone.

He turned from Brittany and said, "Don't say I didn't warn you, Rachel."

"Thank you, Finn. I promise I never will."

As he stomped out of the house and everyone stood down, Brittany said, "I so just made that Krav Maga stuff up, Rach."

"You're my idol!" Rachel enveloped her in a hug. "Excuse us, everyone, but Brittany and I have a submarine in dry dock!"

"We totally do!"

"Excuse us!"

They rushed downstairs, leaving the other people in the room blinking.

"But hey, you're in Quinn's house and don't mind us," Puck said.

"We'll take care of them. They're five years old when you put them in the same room," Quinn said as she stepped forward and put a hand on his chest, "Thanks for coming, Puckerman."

"Don't mention it. I'll always be here for you and my Jew. San—you need a ride back?"

"No—I'm going to go babygate Britts and the hobbit and the hobbit's doing the carpool run or I'll spank her. Take off—and I've so got your ass in COD so save it where it was when we popped out of there."

He nodded, "Nice to see you again, Judy. You can always call me if you need me."

She kissed him on the cheek and he blushed. "You're growing up, Noah."

"I know right? Please don't tell the other girls." He winked at her, "I like the older ladies."

She smiled at him, "Never about the girls. And _never_."

"Ouch," he tapped his chest, "Way to shoot a guy down, Judy."

He knuckle bumped Santana, "Hug Brit Brit for me," and said to Quinn, "Give my Jew my love, will ya?"

"Will do."

* * *

After he left, Judy said "If you weren't gay, Quinn, I wouldn't mind him for you after all. His hair could grow in."

Santana's eyes popped open and she smiled wolfishly at Quinn, "Yeah, Q, if you weren't gay, he's not bad."

Judy patted Santana's shoulder, "Like you have room to talk, young lady. I've been closing my eyes and sometimes ears to you and Brittany for years. I'll be upstairs. Keep it down to a dull roar, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

Santana looked at Quinn, who was smirking at her, then narrowed her eyes and smirked right back. "You change your shirt, Cap?"

Quinn blushed, "If you say a word to Rachel, I will murder you. And since I'm a WASP, it'll probably be a lingering, painful poisoning. Got me?"

Santana shrugged.

Quinn pulled her turtleneck down off her neck and Santana gaped before she whispered, "I TOLD you she'd burn your ass up in bed."

"There was no bed involved. Nothing except kissing but we sort of got in trouble with a cop for…uh…public…you know."

Santana choked back a laugh, "Perfect. Just so ya know—as rampant as you accuse me and Britts of being—we've never been in trouble with the po po."

"Whatever."

"Yeah whatever, I was right and I love the smell of napalm in the morning. Smells like…victory."

* * *

**I'm out of town so it might have been longer but I hope you enjoyed it! Of course, the last quote is from Apocalypse Now.**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**Very Faberry, Brittany, Santana.**

* * *

Even as Quinn and Santana slowly made their way downstairs, they heard raised voices and could see from the stairwell Brittany sitting in the lounge chair with Rachel sitting sideways in her lap with her legs hanging over one armrest. Their arms were wrapped around each other and they were nodding excitedly. They were so caught up in their conversation that they clearly had no idea that they were being overheard and Quinn and Santana stopped to listen.

"Oh no…Brittany? I think the periscope's broken."

"No way. Really?"

Pause.

"Yes—I'm looking through it and I can't see a thing."

"I think you should…check the periscopemometer, Rach."

"An excellent idea!…yes! You're correct. The readings indicate that we need to calibrate it."

Pause.

"We need to calibrate? Then I'm totes glad we put the calibradon in our toolbox."

"I know right? Just the thing. I'll hold the periscope's…wheelhouse steady while you use the calibradon."

"Hold it tight."

"Obviously. This operation needs precision."

"I'm all over it."

The girls on the stairs watched as the other girls paused and tightened their grip on each other.

"Do you think it's working, Brittany?"

"I'm adjusting it…just another few turns and I think…yes. The angular perpendicularity was 13 degrees off between the primary mirror and the secondary prism. Look through it now."

A longer pause, because those were real words and optical concepts.

"You fixed it!"

Brittany shrugged, "_De nada._ With your help."

"No. You're the better sub mechanic."

"Well, you were better with the air conditioning thing."

"We all have our different talents."

"Totally! Right?"

They grinned at each other winningly even as Santana threw her hands in the air and Quinn said through gritted teeth, "Can anyone come aboard?"

Rachel smiled up at the girls descending the stairs, "Brittany just had a flash of mechanical brilliance regarding our periscope!"

"Fantastic," Quinn said, although her voice was strained.

Santana cut to the chase, "And you're mauling my baby, Frodo."

"I respectfully disagree, Santana. Brittany and I were working in the close confines of a submarine and we were merely giving a bit of verisimilitude to the operation."

Santana put her hands on her hips, "So you're actually saying if you were fixing a sub you'd be in each other's laps?"

"It's method acting."

"There's going to be a method to my acting out in just a few seconds."

Quinn bit off the words, "Rachel, you need to get out of Brittany's lap," and even as she heard the words, Rachel couldn't decide whether Quinn had spoken for Santana's benefit or her own.

"Rach is totally cuddly, San, Q, and we were having fun so don't be mean."

"I know baby but—"

"No buts, San. It's not sexy hugging—it makes us happy so I don't see why you guys are making a big deal out of it. You can't say I can't hug Rach, San, just because you're my girlfriend and it makes you jelly for no reason. And you can't either, Q. You're super jelly right now but you're trying not to be mean even though I can see you really want to be."

Question answered, Rachel thought as she hugged Brittany tightly and kissed her on the cheek, "Great save with our periscope and more later, okay?"

"Totally."

She got up and stood before Santana and looked from the girl to Quinn, "There. Are you okay now? Are your petty jealousies assuaged by the fact Brittany and I aren't in physical proximity? Or do you not understand I've never had a real playmate in my life, completely and entirely because of the two of you? Forgive me if you find it difficult to believe that Brittany and I like to play and are affectionate by nature and can regulate and relegate our affections based upon our other relationships. I assume I'm your ride home, Santana, Brittany? I'll be upstairs."

"But before we leave, Quinn? We need to speak privately. I'll meet you in your room."

As the girl charged up the stairs, Brittany's face fell and Santana winced.

"Fuck!" Quinn slowly followed her up the stairs.

Brittany watched Quinn depart and said, quietly, "Quinn's in super trouble."

"Yeah."

"So are you."

* * *

As Quinn entered her bedroom, she saw Rachel pacing back and forth but as she closed the door behind her, Rachel stopped and pointed at her. "What are you _thinking_, Quinn?"

Quinn didn't answer.

"Tell me you're actually thinking that Brittany and I are having some clandestine affair."

"Of course not!"

Rachel glared at Quinn, "So you do know that my relationship with Brittany is friendly and affectionate and yet you're still angrily jealous? May I repeat? Me and BRITTANY? Who wouldn't hurt you for the world, although apparently you imagine I would?"

Quinn felt like her head would explode at this but she lowered her voice and whispered hoarsely, "Hello, princess? You just brought me back from a therapy session to address a lot of stuff including _exactly _the issue of my possessive irrationality. I'm fucked up, _remember_? If that's too hard for you after ten years, I'm sure I'll continue to fuck up so often you won't need to schedule reminders or you'll quickly get so tired of me we won't need to schedule anything at all."

Rachel looked into Quinn's eyes and although she was angry, she wasn't so angry that she couldn't understand that the whole Brittany thing was, yet again, a knee-jerk reaction on Quinn's part or that the girl felt honest anguish for that reaction. Nor angry enough to change her mind about what she'd been considering from the moment that she'd kissed Quinn so passionately. This was all clearly going to be complex between them until it wasn't. "Your explanation is noted and appreciated. Change of subject?"

"Gladly."

Quinn was expecting something somewhat dire but Rachel surprised her. "I was thinking that if I'm going to be kissing you so often and giving you hickeys and fondling your breasts, it would be rather churlish of me not to make a more formal declaration of my intentions toward you."

Most of the tension left Quinn's body as she half-smiled, "What do you mean?"

"This is probably such a bad idea and way too soon but I need for you to feel secure and I think if we're going to be…like this…I should ask you whether you'd consider being my girlfriend."

Quinn literally felt her heart flop around in her chest. "I've been your girlfriend from the moment you threw up on me, Rachel. I think the question is whether you'd consider being mine."

"I'm going to ignore your lovely memories of my regurgitation. But yes. Both to the consideration and the question."

"And you're not just asking because I'm an insecure basket-case and you feel guilty because you felt me up?" Although this was phrased as if it were a joke, Rachel understood it was a sincere question.

"No. I want to be your girlfriend."

Quinn smiled, "So we're dating?"

"When you finally gin up the courage to ask me on a date and I inevitably accept, then yes."

"So I'm the boy in this scenario?"

Rachel shrugged, "Well, you _are_ taller and more aggressive."

"I think we could debate the more aggressive part. I've seen you in Glee."

"You mistake your terms. That's called assertive. But you're my suitor—you can't deny that."

Quinn sighed happily, "Rachel, would you go on a date with me on Friday?"

"Yes, Quinn. I'd be delighted to accompany you on some outing that will astound me with its originality."

"Whatever. Right. That was easy."

"Who thought it wouldn't be?"

"Me."

"Oh ye of little faith."

"You're quoting Jesus?"

Rachel smacked her forehead and grinned, "I did that with Karofsky, too. For some reason, Jesus keeps popping into my mind now that I have a Christian girlfriend."

"He _does_?" Quinn's smile disappeared, "He's not…is He _bothering_ you?"

"_Bothering_ me? Who? _Jesus_?"

Only the fact that Quinn's eyes were serious and suddenly filled with anxiety as she nodded kept Rachel from laughing in astonishment at this surreal twist in the conversation. As she flashed through what she imagined of the girl's religious upbringing, she reached out and ran a thumb gently over her cheek.

"Jesus isn't bothering me, Quinn. I love and revere Him as someone I personally consider one of history's greatest moral teachers, a fellow Jew and the one my daddy considers his saviour. As a Jew, I don't regard Him in the same salvific sense you and my daddy do but every thought I have of Him is positive. I know that's not the case for you but I've read the New Testament many times and you needn't fear Him. He loves you."

She tapped the girl gently on the nose.

"And beside that? The King James version of the Bible is, as you should know, a greater influence on the Western literary canon than even Shakespeare. You can't help but know a lot of it even if you haven't read it, and I _have_ read it. I promise you Jesus isn't hounding me because we're in love."

"Hounding. Funny you should use that word. My father made me feel like Jesus was a pitbull in the sky."

"If Jesus is who you Christians purport him to be? Again? You needn't fear Him. He's the good shepherd and you're a beloved member of His flock. Your father was wrong to make you fear Him."

Quinn nodded and lowered her eyes, "I'm sorry. You probably thought that was dumb."

"Your spiritual concerns will never be dumb to me, baby. And if you want to talk about them, I'll always listen." She rested her hand on Quinn's right shoulder. "Are you sure that you don't believe your homosexuality is a sin? That our relationship is a sin?"

Quinn adjusted herself slightly on her crutches as she considered this. "I'm completely convinced it's not a sin. But when you said that about quoting Jesus? That caught me off-guard and I totally thought, oh my God, Jesus is watching my girlfriend. I guess that's just one more habitual anxiety reaction I can deal with in therapy."

Rachel gently shook Quinn's shoulder. "Again? If Jesus is who you believe Him to be? I know he's watching me. And I promise you He loves me. He might want to smite me occasionally for my ego but, even in my faith, His father created me and I've been exactly myself since I was hatched."

"I don't think I've ever been myself since the day I was hatched."

Rachel stepped closer, "I think you're making progress with that. In leaps and bounds, actually."

Quinn smiled down into warm brown eyes. "I think I am, too. And on that whole girlfriend note? Does that mean I get to kiss you?"

Rachel immediately moved toward her but Quinn pulled back. "No, Rachel. Actually? I get to kiss you. As you said, I'm the boy."

"You're the goy."

"That too."

The kiss Quinn gave Rachel was passionate but it was also incredibly gentle and tender and completely unlike what they'd shared before.

When Quinn ended it, Rachel blinked. "Uh. Okay. Wow?" She shook her head. "You're exceptionally good at that but I'm big enough to immediately admit that I now know you're the girlier girl in this relationship."

"Yes. I already knew that. But I admire your willingness to concede you were wrong."

"I didn't say I was wrong. I merely—"

"Shut up Rachel. I'm in love. I want you to feel it."

Rachel sighed dreamily, "I feel it, like, all over. And I just said like, which is unlike me."

"I broke you."

"If we didn't have other people to tend to, you could break me again."

Quinn kissed her on the forehead. "You're my girlfriend."

"And you're mine. That's completely bizarre."

"I'll say. But we're figuring out what that means and we're not ready to tell the world. Does that go without saying?"

"You said it."

Rachel hugged Quinn tightly, "You owe Brittany an apology."

"I know."

"And fair warning? I will be as appropriately affectionate as I want to with Brittany. Get used to it. Got it?"

"Got it—let's get to it."

* * *

An exceptionally sheepish Santana and a happy Brittany were waiting for them in the foyer.

Quinn led the way, "Brit Brit? I'm sorry about the whole jelly thing. I'm going to a doctor to get better about being so mean, okay?"

Brittany grinned, "That's super good, Q, because you're only mean because you're sad all the time and that has to hurt more than your foot even, right?"

Quinn nodded, "Right. It really does."

Brittany lifted her chin, "You still can't stop me from hugging Rach, though."

"I know that, B. I was wrong and I'm sorry."

Brittany smiled as she said, "No worries," even as she elbowed Santana.

Santana huffed before she said, "Whatever. Frodo? Sorry, okay?"

Rachel smirked, "For what?"

"You know what. How would you feel if I was all up in Quinn's lap?"

"I'd want to hurt you."

"Case closed."

"Not so fast, counselor. Your motivations are always suspect. Tell me how often Brittany's are?"

Santana snapped her fingers at Rachel, "Don't play that card with me."

Rachel snapped her fingers, "You're playing the outraged Latina lover card with me over something just about as innocuous as my sharing an ice cream cone with your girlfriend. So why not, _ese_?"

Santana's eyes popped wide, "The fffuck, bish?"

Rachel took a step back even as Quinn immediately crutched forward with Brittany seconding her.

"I _know_ you didn't just call me _ese _because _hello_—I'm not Mexican and—"

"Did you say ice cream cone?" Brittany's voice raised brightly and hopefully.

Rachel looked up gratefully at the girl forcing an abrupt conversational detour, staring down at Santana to accept it even as she said, "Yes, Brittany, on our way home, we can stop for ice cream."

Santana looked into Brittany's eyes, then glared at Rachel and pointed at Quinn, "You'd better fucking note the fact I took the T out of the word bitch in addressing our hobbit just now and that was just for you, Q. And you don't eat ice cream, Frodo."

"I don't but I've already had dessert today."

Oh dear God, Quinn thought. It was sweet of Rachel to say but she dropped her head even as Santana's glare turned into a leer. When she looked up, Santana said, "She opened the door, Q. So, for reals? She deserves for me to walk right through. You already had a little something sweet today, Rachel? What's that?"

Rachel looked from Quinn to Santana and back to Quinn. And stamped her foot. "You told her!"

Quinn raised both hands as best she could over her crutches. "I changed into a turtleneck, Rachel. She noticed and asked. I told. She's my best friend."

Brittany responded, "It's so not like I'm not used to this but I know I'm missing something."

Quinn didn't even bother to move as Santana stepped forward and pulled her turtleneck down. Brittany stared at the damage and nodded. "That's totally sweet, Rach, that you're kissing Q. But you and San are women of color. Q and I are really pale Caucasians and even for Caucasians we both bruise super easy since forever, okay?"

Rachel nodded in complete mortification.

Brittany lowered her voice, "You know I'm like in my cheer costume all the time so I can't be bruised all over, right? So the best thing to do is just lick Q really hard. It still feels really nice. I mean, it's not exactly as fun but it doesn't leave marks. That's what San does until the off-season."

The three girls surrounding Brittany were blushing ferociously and begging internally for Brittany to end their misery in their minds. Which she did. "I think Q needs to get off her foot, S."

Quinn felt like jumping forward but only said, "_Thanks_, B. I probably do."

"So Q?

"Brit?"

"Does this mean you and Rach are girlfriends or are you just friends with sexy times?"

Quinn thought 'leave it to Brittany to just ask the big question even she and Rachel hadn't handled.' "We're girlfriends with kissing but without sexy times, for the time being. I need to go to the doctor more and get better before all that."

"Because, like San said, you're going to a sad doctor to help make you happy?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'm glad."

"Me too, B. You guys get going. Rach? Call me later?"

Rachel grabbed her bag from the floor of the foyer, "I certainly will. And since the cat's out of the bag?"

She pulled Quinn into a quick, gentle kiss. "I love you—get off that leg and tell your mother goodbye for us."

"Will do. And love you back. And I love you, S, even though you're a bish right back and I super love you B."

"Gagging even as you speak." Santana said.

Brittany shrugged. "I love you, too, Q. And gagging mostly means I love you too in San-speak. It's like Sanskrit except harder sometimes."

Where Brittany came up with half the stuff she said, which was often wildly accurate, was a mystery to all of them.

* * *

At the ice cream parlor, there was a disturbingly long line for Ohio in the winter. Go figure, Santana thought as she gave Brittany a ten-dollar bill and said, "You know what I want, ice cream-wise, baby. And I wants to have a quick talk with our hobbit."

Brittany nodded and said, "I'll order it but you have to be nice, San or—"

"I know! You already told me. Three scoops for you."

Santana sat across from a booth with Rachel but leaned forward, motioning for Rachel to do the same. As Rachel leaned forward, Santana spoke quietly, "Here's the deal, hobby. There are many definitions of the word _ese_, which sort of, kind of can be translated from something like, "Wassup, _ese_," to "What's up, dude?" It has other connotations, however, and the most common usage is derived from male Mexican-American gang culture. As such? It's really a culturally tone-deaf thing for you to say to a Latina _woman_ who's not _Mexican._ I totally get you thought you know a cool Spanish reference but it hit me wrong, okay? I promise I'm not hatin' on Mexicans but I'm mixed-breed Lesbian enough. I don't need to be called what I'm not."

"I apologize. I didn't mean any offense."

"Some taken initially—but taken totally back. I understand you didn't know. Apology accepted. And listen. About the whole Britts thing? I'm not used to anyone loving her like our parents or me and Q do…so it's like…"

"I understand."

"I don't think you do."

Rachel looked into eyes as dark as her own. "Santana? I _understand_. You suddenly have someone else who only wants the best for her. Who loves her. I know that must be weird for you and maybe you think I can't cut it? But, to be honest?" She glared at the girl across from her, "I'm tougher than both you and Quinn put together. Nothing either of you have _ever_ done to me over ten years has diminished me in any way. You can hurt me all you want to, and you so have, but I will always win because I'm stronger than both of you in every way except the physical. And now Brittany has me completely on her side."

Rachel pulled a paper napkin from its dispenser and began to clean the tabletop.

"Remember that extends to you and Quinn. I'd bet you think _I'm_ the winner here, right? Because I've gained high school bullshit-protection from _you_? Think twice, Santana. I appreciate you but I've had my Kevlar on since the day you walked into my life. _You're_ the winners in this equation. Because now you have _my_ affection and trust and protection. I sincerely apologize again for my ham-handed cultural reference but you need to step back if you think your beating me physically would change one fucking thing about me."

She stopped cleaning and looked Santana in the eyes. "It never would. I'm Rachel Berry. Bottom line? I will always stand in front of whatever life throws at Quinn or Brittany. You have someone standing with you between life and them. And I _will _always win, even if sometimes you three might lose. I promise you that's true."

"Rocky Road, San!" Brittany announced as she slid into the booth next to the girl and handed her the cone.

"What a perfect choice for Santana," Rachel said as she looked at Brittany's cone. "What's that, Brittany?"

"Mint chocolate chip. It's my favorite. I could have gotten three scoops like San said but it makes me crazy anxious when I do because it melts so fast so two's enough. With two scoops, you just eat the top and jam the rest in the cone with your tongue. It's still weird because it's a race between like melting and licking, right? And that sounded sexy but I so didn't mean it like that."

Rachel smiled as Brittany said, "I wish you weren't allergic to ice cream, Rach."

"I'm fine. I'll always be happy if you and Quinn are happy, Brittany."

Rachel glanced from her to Santana who was holding her cone in one hand and licked it as she gently tapped the table with her fist twice with the other and then tapped her heart.

Rachel gently tapped her fist twice on the table and tapped her heart.

Brittany ignored them but smiled as she enjoyed her ice cream.

**A/N Sorry so short but I just got home and I wanted to update at least a little. Seriously? Reviews are the reason I write. I appreciate every one. Hope you enjoyed. **


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**Post-therapy Faberry anxiety, a heaping helping of the Fabray family and the Berry family.  
**

* * *

After Rachel, Santana and Brittany had left, Quinn put her bag on the kitchen table, poured a glass of her favorite concoction, a 'cocktail' she'd made up while her parents went through a long period of vodka and cranberry or scotch and soda as drinks of choice. Half cranberry juice and half soda water was pretty damned tasty.

She pushed a pulled her books out of her bag but pushed them aside and opened the notebook the doctor had given her.

Evidently she was going to do something called a dysfunctional thought record. As she looked it over, she had no way of knowing that Rachel still kept one herself four years after ending her therapy sessions.

She read the instructions.

_This is your first step—identification. For this first week, you will keep a record of emotions you regard as unpleasant or troubling. When you experience a sudden change in emotion, follow these steps to document it: write down what was going on—exactly what situation you were in. Tell me what thought(s) ran through your mind during the situation. On a scale from 1-100, tell me how fully you believed the thought(s). After you identify your thoughts, tell me how you would label the emotion(s) you were feeling. Rate the intensity of the emotion(s), from 1-100. In this way we can identify some of your triggering thoughts and situations. Although it may seem tedious, it's important to document as fully as possible what thoughts cause you to have swings in emotion._

Quinn reread the instructions and did a face-palm. She hadn't been out of the doctor's office for even three hours and she'd already been defensive about Rachel's defensive reaction to their second kiss. She'd been mortified by the cop catching them during the third and that male authority figure probably hadn't helped her little anxiety reaction about Jesus. She'd been, if she were completely honest with herself, at least as mad at Finn because he'd once dated Rachel as the fact he was standing in her house trying to claim the girl. And had pitched a tiny fit over Rachel and Brittany.

Her eyes swam with tears. This journal could be as long as _War and Peace _within a week and her main emotional mood-swing trigger was obviously and overwhelmingly going to be her brand new girlfriend. Which she supposed had been true for a very long time. She was completely fucked.

"Quinn, honey?"

"In the kitchen!"

She wiped the tears from her eyes hurriedly and covered her therapy notebook with her history book, opening it even as her mother entered the room and patted her shoulder as she crossed to the refrigerator.

Judy said cheerfully, "I am SO glad you're gay if Finn Hudson is the pick of the litter in Lima."

Quinn smiled, glad her mother wasn't focusing on her as she composed herself, "I wouldn't say he's the pick, mom, but you know high school. He _is_ unusually tall, fairly easy on the eyes and a popular football player. Plus that vapid look on his face and the fact, because he's stupid, he sort of agrees with almost everything you say? That gives him a veneer of sincerity and warmth if you squint and interpret it that way, and teenage girls do."

"Ouch." Judy chuckled as she perused the contents of the fridge. "What do you kids say? Bitter much?"

When no answer was forthcoming, Judy turned back to Quinn. The girl was staring at the wall and the muscles of her jaw were twitching.

Judy closed the fridge door and stepped around the table to face Quinn. "Honey, I was teasing you. I wanted to kick Finn out of the house just as much as you did. Believe me, I was bitter, too, after having to sit with him and make conversation before you got back because that's like pulling hen's teeth. I meant no offense toward you."

Quinn closed her eyes and rocked in place for a few seconds. "I know you didn't, mom. But I am bitter. More bitter than you can possibly imagine."

She opened her eyes, "He's hitting me in the sorest spot I have in my heart, right up there with Beth. Saying all of this stuff to me about Rachel, especially in front of Rachel? The pathetic thing is, he's trying to high-school-hurt me and doesn't even know that it hurts me profoundly. And when people hurt me, I want to hurt them back. I want to hurt him for doing this to me. But I won't—or not too much," Quinn snorted as she half-grinned, "because that's why I'm going to therapy, right?"

Judy nodded and moved back to the fridge, judging that her daughter needed an immediate and lighter tone change in the conversation. "Speaking of. Did you like your doctor?"

Quinn recounted basically the same reaction she'd given to Rachel.

"Good then. I'm glad and I'm proud of you for making the effort. What do you think of a veggie stir fry over rice noodles tonight?"

The girl couldn't quite believe Judy had just dropped the therapy subject, had let her off the hook. "I don't know, mom. That's a lot of work. I could eat a sandwich."

"Nonsense. I'm thinking peanut sauce."

Quinn smiled down at her history book.

Her mother crossed, leaned down and hugged her daughter's shoulders from behind. "I knew peanut sauce would sell you."

Quinn fought the instinct she always had to stiffen when her mother touched her. She relaxed into the woman's arms and patted them awkwardly, "And why not? Peanut sauce and bacon are two major food groups."

"Do your homework and I'll shut up and chop."

"Please think of Finn while you're at it."

"Will do. And Quinn?"

"Mom?"

"The veggie portion of this dish is in honor of Rachel, who after all _is_ unusually short, very easy on the eyes and an unpopular member of the Glee club."

Quinn smiled back at her mom, "Touché, Judy Fabray."

* * *

When Rachel got home, she didn't even have to get to the kitchen to know her fathers were making portobello mushroom burgers. She could smell the mushrooms, red peppers and caramelized onions simmering. Rachel smiled as she closed the door. She liked coming home and she hoped Quinn was beginning to feel better about her own home.

"Hi, Daddy! Hi, Dad!"

"Hey, baby girl."

She dropped her bag on the floor in the foyer. "Be right there—I have to text Quinn."

**Rachel Berry: B&S home. I'm home. Hope you're having a good evening. Call you later? I love you**

The answer was nearly immediate.

**Quinn Fabray: Veggie stir-fry for me. I think I'll live. Please call me later. And I love you more**

**Rachel Berry: Impossible. And don't argue. Remember who I am…mushroom burgers here**

**Quinn Fabray: I have peanut sauce and rice noodles to go with**

**Rachel Berry: I am experiencing strong feelings of covetousness**

**Quinn Fabray: That'll teach ya**

**Rachel Berry: Later**

**Quinn Fabray: Gator**

As Rachel walked into the kitchen, she speed-hugged both of her fathers and tried to steal a red pepper out the pan even as Jacob blocked her hand with an elbow. "You'll burn yourself." He lifted a pepper out of the hot pan on his spatula and blew on it, touched it with his forefinger and then offered it to her. Rachel felt her eyes sting a bit at this, even as her mind flashed to Santana.

Her dad had always treated her as if she were incredibly fragile. He was an only child and wasn't used to girls. This amused her daddy because he'd grown up with sisters. Although he was wildly protective, he'd always assured Jacob girls might not be as strong but they were definitely tougher than boys.

She opened her mouth, gingerly grabbed it and declared it, "Perfect."

"As usual," Eric said. "And what's this about texting Quinn—didn't you just leave her house?"

Rachel made a sour face at his teasing expression, "It's not unusual to alert a…friend that you have successfully dropped off other friends and have reached your destination."

"How'd your day go?"

"It was rife with incident!"

Jacob glanced at Eric and smiled.

"How so?"

Rachel rattled on at great speed, "The school day itself was actually fairly standard, except for the fact I felt nearly no anxiety about being bullied, which I suppose means it was strikingly different for me. As for Glee, that's a story in itself and I'll save it for dinner. After school, as you know I gave Quinn a ride to her therapist, whom she liked. I met her and, although she seemed kind, I felt antagonistic toward her for reasons I'll address tonight in my dysfunctional thought record. I also, perhaps, tried to pick a bit of a fight with Quinn for a reason I'll also address in my dysfunctional thought record."

Both men's eyebrows raised at this. Although they knew she kept such a journal, she rarely talked about it. They waited through the long pause that followed and continued to stir their vegetables.

"After I took Quinn back to her home, Finn was there to, I suppose in what passes for his mind, spirit me away from the den of Fabray iniquity and wouldn't leave without me and I was forced to call Noah and Santana to frighten him off."

Eric turned around, "The hell? Did he threaten you, baby?"

"Not really, although when two women demand that a very large young man leave their home when he wants to take another very small woman away with him and he will not concede, is a bit intimidating. We didn't feel frightened—just uncomfortable."

"Right. Tomorrow? I'll have a talk with that boy and Burt and Carol Hummel. We'll get that straight."

"Daddy. No. You don't have to."

"What don't I have to do? That lout wouldn't leave Judy Fabray's house when asked to? I'm sorry, honey, but I'm gonna pull the man card on you. With some jackass young men? They don't quite understand something unless a man explains it. And I think an adult needs to tell his parents what their jackass kid is doing. That's happening. No discussion, Rachel."

He turned back to his cooking. "Anything else?"

"Well, before that…after my sort-of fight with Quinn, before we got to her house, I sort of launched myself onto her in the car in a fairly licentious manner, so much so that a-" she lightening-mumbled, "a police officer felt compelled to seperate us."

Eric held up both hands. "Hold up. What? Wait-a-minute. Jake? Turn this stove off—and let's put the veggies on the back burners."

They did so and turned toward their daughter, whose face was scarlet.

"Repeat?"

She did so and recounted the officer's discussion with them.

Jacob's eyes were saucers. Eric run his hands over his head. "Okay. Good on that cop for taking the high road with you two. He was right. You know that?"

"Yes."

He looked into his daughter's eyes. "Baby girl, I'm sure both of us appreciate your being so candid with us, okay? But I gotta think you're telling us something really embarrassing any teenager would normally conveniently forget to tell her parents if she could get away with it, and you could, so she doesn't have to tell them something else she thinks is a lot bigger."

"Obviously," Jacob agreed, "What are you leaving out?"

Dammit, Rachel thought although she said, "Right," as she smiled a nervous, sickly smile, "Funny you should ask. Quinn and I have decided that our feelings for each other are such that we should be a couple, romantically. We've made the decision to date each other and be girlfriends or however one might wish to put it."

At the look of a mixture of concern and dismay on her fathers' faces, Rachel lifted her chin defiantly, "What's wrong with that? I thought you liked Quinn."

Jacob sat down next to Rachel, "We really, truly like Quinn, Rachel. But you need to look at it from our point of view. And hear us, okay? Don't go diva on us right now?"

Rachel nodded.

"And yes, we've discussed this because we could sort of see it coming. Quinn just started therapy for a serious problem. You know you're our main concern always but to be fair to her? Don't you think that maybe for her to enter a romantic relationship with the main person she's been victimizing for so long even as she's trying to understand the thoughts and feelings that lead her to act that way might be just a little much for her to deal with?"

Rachel's lips started to tremble.

Eric kissed her on the head, "Every romantic relationship involves each partner exposing a lot of vulnerability to the other and she's already going to be increasingly emotionally vulnerable in her therapy. And frankly, Rach, it's pretty obvious vulnerability makes Quinn lash out. It's not that we don't believe you two have strong feelings for each other. It's because your feelings are _so_ strong, and not childish ones, that we're concerned."

Tears fell down Rachel's cheeks, "I understand. I do. But I can't go back on it now. Really I can't. It would hurt her so much—you don't know."

"Fine. Understood," Jacob said, "but what I don't want to see, Rach, is for you to become ultra-accommodating because your girlfriend is going to be going through a rough time."

"Or for you to be on the constant lookout for ways not to set her off," Eric added.

"I take your point dad. And thank you, daddy, but I already have a decade's worth of practice with that. That's second nature."

She lowered her head and sat in silence for a full minute. When Rachel was silent, which was rare, Eric and Jacob always respected it.

She finally raised her head and said, "The timing might not be optimal but our relationship is not a mistake. I'm fully convinced, as difficult as it may be, that we'll be able to get through this together. I will treat her exactly as if I hadn't heard these dire warnings from you and be the same thoughtless, self-absorbed person I was before I burdened Quinn with a relationship she's unready for and before you burdened me with an understanding that I'd done so. Excuse me, but I should do some of my homework before dinner and I'd appreciate this being the last we speak of this issue tonight. Maybe tomorrow. I've had a hard day."

She gave them a grin that conveyed only sadness and calmly walked out of the room.

As they heard her quietly climb the stairs toward her room, Jacob said, "I hate it when she doesn't storm out."

"Me too."

* * *

Rachel went upstairs with every intention of attacking her journal but then she started to cry. She had a very satisfying fifteen-minute cry then sniffed mightily as she stared at her journal, then at her phone, back at the journal, then at her phone.

Dysfunctional thoughts? Go to the source.

She dialed the number.

_"I knew you had a thing for me."_

"Am I interrupting anything?"

_"No. Britts just went home. Unless you wanted me to pretend you interrupted us having sex so I can—wait-a-second—are you crying? The _fuck_, Frodo?"_

At that, Rachel began to cry again in earnest.

"Ay Dios Mio." Santana's voice softened and she sounded vaguely panicked, _"Shhhh. Shhhh. Please no, _estrellita_. Please. I don't do this girls crying thing."_

"I'm sorry."

_"Don't be sorry—just stop crying—what's wrong? You were fine when you were being all Super-Jew in the ice cream shop. That fuckstick Finn isn't bothering you again, is he?"_

"No. It's Quinn."  
_  
_Santana's voice tightened, "Q? What about her?"

"You can't tell her."

_"Can't promise that. We'll see. Spill it."_

Rachel sniffed through an explanation of her fathers' concerns. She didn't know that while Santana was listening, the girl was also worriedly chewing a piece of gum like she had a death wish against it and was squeezing a tension ball so hard that her forearm was beginning to cramp.

"_That it?"_

"Isn't that enough?"

_"Well, yeah. The timing sucks donkey balls. I get your parentals point of view. And sure, they're totally right. But that doesn't mean you're not more right. And you are. You know why?"_

"Why?"

_"Pull away from Q now and her walls will go up like Fort Knox. And that goes for therapy too. Right now she's pretty much going for you and yada yeah that's not why she should be going but who the fuck cares why she shows up at the doctor as long as she goes, right? But Little Dougie? You have zero poker face. So right this very fucking minute and forever and for reals, you need to just totally give this issue up to Jesus or—or you know, whoever your peeps give stuff to. Just sayin'—don't blow it by getting all emo guilty about this shit and acting all tripped out and weird around her because she'll smell it a mile away. You had exactly the right idea. Just be your usual batshit crazy, obnoxious self. Got me?"_

"Yes. That's very helpful."

_"And look at it this way? It's not like she wouldn't need therapy for being in a relationship with you anyway, so she's killing two birds with one stone."_

"It's somehow comforting to know that you'll always insult me."

_"I know right? Everyone needs someone she can rely on."_

"Thank you, Santana."

"De nada, _Rachel_."

"And I'll…I'll try not to be so affectionate with Brittany in the future if it truly bothers you."

_"I thought I told you to hug Britts every time she wants a hug?"_

"But today, you—"

_"Please. That's just me gettin' my swag on. You hug my girl or sit in her lap if she wants or I'll totally hurt you. Okay?"_

"Yes."

_"Fine—then get outta here and when you talk to Q, forget any of this happened. Anything about your fathers and especially me. See you tomorrow."_

"Okay."

_"And…you know what? Whatever. _Fuck it_. If you need me again, call me."_

Rachel smiled and said, "Okay. Bye."

_"Wait! Blow your nose and get your shit together before you talk to Q. Your voice changes a lot when you've been crying. It sorta sounds like what you'd think a person with a nose like yours would sound like."_

"What? I completely resent that, Santana Lopez!"

She pulled the phone away from her ear because of Santana's loud cackling, _"Night night, hobby."_

After she'd rung off, she thought for a few seconds and texted:

**Rachel Berry: Your girlfriend is so cool, B+S = 3 x 100**

The answer was swift.

**Brittany Pierce: Rite? SO wnt tell U sd so. CU tmrw. Our sub nds wk. Ppl dnt undrstnd. R+ Q = 3 x 102. See? I cn ad**

* * *

Dinner was surprisingly pleasant at the Fabray household and, after they'd put the dishes in the dishwasher, Quinn felt emboldened enough by her mother's warmth to show her the therapy notebook she was supposed to keep. It was about as open as she'd ever been with her mother in her life.

Judy read the instructions over twice. "I think that's amazing, honey. I've never really conceived I could understand myself that way. As you know, I wasn't taught to and certainly wasn't encouraged to in my adult years. But I'm so glad you're getting to do something that's just for you. I'm so proud that you're doing it."

"It's not too late, mom. You can still…you know, whatever."

"I know it's not too late. Because guess who passed her real estate exam and has a license?"

Quinn clapped her hands in honest joy, "No way!"

"Yes, way."

"That's so fantastic!"

As she hugged her mother, Quinn felt fear recede and she knew that would have to be something to note in her dysfunctional thought record, because a sudden absence of fear and a quickening sense of joy? The buoyant, happy thoughts that had created them? They certainly felt dysfunctional to her. Or maybe she was just a foreigner in new emotional territory.

* * *

Dinner in the Berry household was a great deal cheerier than Eric and Jacob had thought it would be because Rachel had come down looking completely herself and had smiled and laughed with them as she regaled them with, as promised, Glee tales of Latin numbers.

"Kurt's J Lo was successful as a number, but it was slightly underplayed as Latin because it was _Love Don't Cost a Thing_, which was certainly sung by a Latin woman but was not quite so Latin as American pop. Finn and Tina did a fairly reasonable version of Marc Anthony and Tina Arena's _I Want to Spend My Life Loving You_. And yet again, not quite Latin."

"Santana had refused to sing anything because she said she was exactly what she was and didn't need to prove a thing through song about her racial heritage. That was completely a dig at Mercedes, who has, let's say, a certain bias about songs of different genres."

They stared at her.

"Alright. Admittedly, in the spirit of complete disclosure, I have a bias toward…well nearly all songs but especially show tunes and Barbara and who can blame me? But when Mercedes offered to sing a Shakira song and Santana suggested, in her inimitable way, that Mercedes didn't have the ethnic persuasiveness to sing it? Of course Mercedes took umbrage at this and asked who did? When Santana said Brittany could easily beat her, it was like fireworks. Fantastically exciting."

She sawed away at an onion as she continued, "Suffice it to say, Mr. Schue had to physically restrain Mercedes to keep her from going after Santana and it was touch and go for a few seconds."

"But Santana had evidently planned it all out. She slapped down the sheet music to Shakira's _Loca_ for the band and Brittany whipped off her top and performed it in her sport bra and skirt and substituted half the English with Spanish. The dancing was so Shakira it was making everyone squirm a bit in their seats. It was perfect, naturally, and the Spanish was perfectly inflected as well. Scary sexy Latin dance and half in Spanish by a resoundingly white girl. What could anyone say?"

Rachel paused and winced, "Well actually, Santana did say, "Right. Beat that Latin, Chocolate. Britts is totally white but my baby's been raised Latina brown since she was three."

"That wasn't all that nice of Santana, Rachel."

"I know, Daddy, and I like Mercedes but she's as much of a diva as I am and Santana isn't at all. She'll take solos but doesn't fight for them. She's an excellent dancer but doesn't say anything about it. And she's my friend. The good news? I believe the fact that my number with Brittany was too sexually suggestive and Brittany's solo was too risqué added to the fact that the other two numbers were hardly show-stoppers may have encouraged Mr. Shue to move on to our Asian pop assignment."

"Asian pop?"

"I know. We'll see."

"Hold up—sexually suggestive?"

"It was but don't worry, Daddy. We only did it once."

"That's what she said."

"That's not funny, Eric," Jacob said primly.

* * *

Although they texted a couple of times, it was quite late before Rachel called Quinn.

Before Quinn could speak, Rachel said, "Hi, beautiful."

_"Hey! You stole my line."_

"I miss you."

_"Miss you too."_

"How were your most excellent noodles?"

_"Most excellent. It's like you can read minds or something. Mushroom burger?"_

"Surprisingly meaty. In fact, I'm not convinced portobellos aren't meat."

_"I think they're the meat of the vegetable world. Just like avocados are nature's mayonnaise."_

"Ohmygod! You think that too?"

_"It's pretty obvious, pretty girl."_

Long pause.

_"I love you, Quinn. And I'm so happy—no—it's more like overwhelmed that you're my girlfriend."_

Long pause.

_"Really?"_

"Really."

Rachel could almost hear Quinn's smile. _"No. Like really?"_

"Completely."

_"I thought you'd have massive second thoughts."_

Rachel crossed her fingers and said, "Not a one."

_"Wow…really?"_

"Stop with the really. I love you."

_"Lucky me."_

"No. Lucky me."

_"Rachel, I love you too—so much—but…no…not but…AND you know I'm doing this therapy stuff and I might be wonky for a while so if it gets too much—lets just always talk about it, okay? Please? I want to be the sort of girlfriend you deserve, okay?"_

"We'll always talk, baby. And listen to me, okay?"

_"Okay."_

"I know what your homework in therapy is, okay? I'm not asking for you to discuss it with me. But you need to know I still keep a dysfunctional thought record and I just want you to know that there will be a few entries today concerning you. I'm going to work on them. I know a lot of yours will be about me. You're not alone in this and we'll get through it together. I'll work on me and you work on you and if you need to talk, talk. And I will, too. Does that sound good?"

_"Perfect."_

"Good. Now get to bed because it's a little late and it's been a long day. I love you."

_"I love you more."_

"Impossible. Sleep well and thank you, Quinn."

"For?"

_"Very quickly? You talk about not deserving me? You know my hopes for stardom and Broadway and all of that. But you make me feel like I have someone in my life I should aspire to be better for and to deserve. Thank you for giving me another dream."_

"Thank you, Rachel."

_"Goodnight, angel."_

"Goodnight."

* * *

Quinn was nearly asleep when she heard her phone buzzing on her nightstand. She thought it would be a message from Rachel but it was:

**Santana Lopez: You okay?**

**Quinn Fabray: Why wouldn't I be?**

**Santana Lopez: Your pick. Therapy, hobbit love, Finntervention, my magnificence**

**Quinn Fabray: Busted. Your magnificence keeps me up at night. Literally at this moment**

**Santana Lopez: Whatever, bish. I knew it. Anyway. I'm here if you need me, mi hermosa**

**Quinn Fabray: Thank you. Te amo**

**Santana Lopez: Yeah, yeah. That's what all the girls say.**

**Santana Lopez: :p**

**Quinn Fabray: Don't stick that tongue out unless you plan to use it**

**Santana Lopez: ! My little girl's growing up—or out (snicker)**

**Quinn Fabray: What are you wearing?**

**Santana Lopez: Okay. That's when I say good night**

**Quinn Fabray: I knew that would work**

**Santana Lopez: Like a charm. XO, capitan**

**Quinn Fabray: Night, lefty**

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter will be Faberry and school and, just so you know, this story won't continue all heavy into Quinn's therapy—there will be references to it and a couple of short pages of work with her therapist but that's it. They're moving forward but, hey, in the context of this story, I'm not just going to write, 'and one therapy session later, all was well in the Kingdom Faberry.' **

******Thank you, everyone, who continues to read and especially those who comment. I appreciate all of you. RL has been whipping me and I haven't responded as I like to. But, again, thanks. **  



	30. Chapter 30

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**School day! Rachel's not perfect. Finn gets a dose of bitch-slap.**

* * *

When Rachel met Quinn the next morning, as she always did in order to carry her bag and escort her to the car, Quinn gulped.

Rachel was dressed in a red peasant blouse unbuttoned to just under a black bandeau top and tucked into low cut black skinny jeans and red flats. She'd rolled her hair so that it fell in dark wavy tresses around her shoulders and Quinn thought 'Ohmygod' before she even said "Oh my God, you look, excuse me, fucktastic."

Rachel beamed up at her, "I just thought I should make you proud of me on our first secret day as girlfriends."

"I'd be proud of you in Mr. Owl and argyle, sweetheart."

"No worries on that account! Dad took him out of the trash and performed a Spot Shot miracle. Mr. Owl is alive!"

Quinn blinked.

"No take backs."

Quinn sucked it up and grinned, "None taken."

As they got in the car, Rachel said, "Do you think your mom is watching us?"

"Watching us? No, she's on her treadmill."

"Good." Rachel pulled Quinn into a long, gentle kiss, then pecked her lips as she released her. "That served two functions. Good morning and now you know I'm capable of kissing you without being a piranha."

"I like Jewish piranha."

"Given their native waters, I'm sure nearly all piranha would be Catholic."

"That explains Santana."

"She's not South American and she's perfectly charming."

"Santana? Charming? Oh my God. A convert? I can't deal. I'm going to pretend you didn't say that while you kiss me just one more time."

Rachel grinned, then kissed Quinn quickly, "That's all you get. School awaits, girlfriend."

"And why are we getting there early again?"

"Because that way we get to talk to Brittany and Santana before class!"

This was no special treat for Quinn, but because having friends was such a novelty to Rachel, she was willing to go along with it.

As they drove, Quinn said, "You do know you look so sexy that no guy's going to be able to take his eyes off you today." She snickered, "And some of the girls, those closeted bitches."

Rachel gripped the steering wheel, "How do you feel about that?"

"Like it sucks to be them and not me."

"Then you're certainly more evolved that Finn."

"That's a surprise? The only thing Finn and I have in common is the I-N-N in our names and there'll always be room in this inn for you, girl."

Rachel snorted and shook her head, "Thanks, Noah."

Quinn's mouth dropped open before she said, "Oh. My. God. I literally just said that."

"Yes. Out loud. On record."

"I apologize."

"Don't. I find it oddly charming how quickly you can be reduced to sexual idiocy."

"Okay, granted. But I bet that Puckerman's never spelled anything that stupid—that was smarter than he is."

"Noah is a man for all seasons but yes, what you said was slightly more clever."

"When you reduce a woman to slightly more clever than Puckerman, you've got juice."

"Of course I do. I'm a Berry."

"I won't even dignify that with a response."

When they arrived at the school, Rachel put a hand on Quinn's forearm and said, "You're not at the point in your therapy where you work on thought replacements but let me tell you something? All day? If you see someone looking at me? If you see me smiling at someone? If you see anything that makes you feel insecure, remember that I'm completely yours. Completely. I can smile and talk and people can look but I don't want anyone but you, okay baby?"

Quinn took a deep breath because even Rachel voicing it made her ache with anxiety. "I'll try."

"And if you need to take a time-out or need me to take one with you—it's your call. We're together, okay?"

"Always?"

"Always. Into the fray, Fabray."

* * *

As they entered the school, Quinn quickly decided that having a hot girlfriend was a hell of lot different than being the hot girlfriend. Although she tried her best to ignore it, it was impossible. There was literally nothing in her mind but forcing herself to know, know, know nothing that none of the looks thrown Rachel's way had anything to do with their relationship but she almost gasped in relief when she heard, "Where you goin, Capitan?"

They turned and Santana had both hands on her hips, smirking. She pointed at Rachel and sang, "Come over here, I got somethin' to show ya."

"I'll take that as a favorable comment on my attire."

Santana walked forward and lowered her voice, "Take it as I'd take that and skip the side of fries because you're looking like the full meal deal all by yourself."

Brittany nodded happily, "You look totally hot, Rach."

"Thank you Brittany. I'm vaguely alarmed, Santana, but thank you as well."

"Gimme our hobby for a sec, Q. Gotsda talk and no, it's not about sex. Cool your jets, Cap. You're in the red zone."

Before Quinn could think, Brittany took her arm, "I totally have to ask you something, Q."

And so they were separated.

Brittany said, "I don't really have a question. And don't worry about San. She's just being super nice to Rach because it's good for Rach to finally have friends and feel sexy and stuff, Q. I bet nobody ever did that for her without trying to really have sexy times with her. San doesn't mean it and Rach knows that. You should know that, too, okay? Don't tell San, though, that you know she's being nice? "

"I won't."

* * *

Santana backed Rachel into the wall of lockers and said, "You _are_ looking hot, _chica_, but that's not the point. Ssup? You okay today?"

"I'm doing very well, thank you. Your advice was excellent."

"Who could doubt it? Just ask Auntie Santana."

"That's a troubling nomenclature, actually."

"No shit. Whatcha need today, short-stack?"

"I don't know? Finn patrol? She's going to get jealous. It's bound to happen."

"For sure. You dressed for it."

"Yes I did. Throwing her into the pool and showing her she won't drown."

Santana paused for a long moment and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Okay. I guess that's one way to do it."

"How else, Santana? Can I say something honestly? Between us?"

Santana nodded, "Completely."

"Actually? That was a lie. I wanted her to feel proud of me today but I don't feel like I have the emotional energy to put psychological floaties on her arms. Or even that I should have to. I'll do everything I can but she's bitch-slapped me for a decade and if it's hard work for her to back it up, so be it. At least I'll be there. I love her and I _will_ be there. But it's more than she's ever given me."

Santana stared at Rachel until the smaller girl felt distinctly uncomfortable. She leaned forward and whispered, "Whoa, Nelly. That is _so_ fucking passive aggressive. You dress like this telling her you want her to be all proud even as you're throwing her into what you know is pretty much gonna be a tailspin? Lemme guess. You gave her a big fat pep talk about jealousy in the parking lot?"

Off Rachel's distinct look of surprise, the girl continued. "Oh yeah. I would have bet you did. And I bet you meant it. But I serious up think you need to deal with your anger about Quinn—and not with Quinn. Therapy, meditation, whatever. You may love her but you're still angry."

"I am _not_."

"Yes you are, fuck you very much. Don't delude yourself and remember you're dealing with someone on the outside looking in who's just as smart as you are. I know angry when I see it. I live it. Deal with it, Rachel, or I won't let you be in Q's life."

"You don't have that right."

"The hell I don't. Because I'm going to be in Q's life for the rest of her life. Deal with your own shit and don't take it out on her."

"I wouldn't do that."

"Rewrite? You may not want to—but you're doing it right now. You want to make her proud by punching the shit out of what we all know is a big fat fucking red anxiety-button for her psychologically?"

At that and in perhaps five seconds, Rachel immediately began to sob and launched herself into Santana's arms.

_Madre de Dios_, Santana thought, even as she wrapped her arms around the girl. Groundhog Day?

"Shhhh, no tears, no tears."

Rachel half-sobbed, half-whispered into Santana's ear, "I'm not _mad_ at her—I'm _scared _of her."

Santana looked up, hearing the death knell of cool because she was holding a crying hobbit in a crowded hallway. She pulled her closer and glowered at the people around them and put one arresting hand in the air at Quinn and Brittany who were approaching with anxious faces. She mouthed, soundlessly, No!

Santana whispered into Rachel's ear, "Being frightened can make you do terrible things, Rach. Look at me—look at Quinn. Hell, look at Karofsky. Don't go there. That's all I'm saying. Don't play it all cool when you're scared or you'll do this sort of bullshit and you'll get hurt and Q will too. I won't let you do that. I won't. But I'll help you, okay?"

Rachel nodded into her neck.

Santana pulled away and wiped Rachel's tears and whispered, "Time to go get cleaned up, Frodo." She buttoned Rachel's blouse up two buttons above where it had been. "Modesty is a virtue, little one, when someone you love needs it. Q needs your modesty. I know it's not fair to you but she's not ready for this yet and we have to think of her. You said it yourself. You're stronger. Don't make me be stronger than you because that wouldn't be pretty, okay?"

Rachel sniffed as she nodded.

"Now Britts will walk you to the bathroom and I'll play patty-cake with Q. And just so you know, your outfit's still saying sexy now—it's just not screaming fuck me, 'kay? Q will be able to deal if you're just your nauseatingly attentive self. And listen up? You can't cry on me tomorrow or that'll be times in three days and I'll think you're putting a hex on me or something."

"Thank you Santana."

"You're welcome, Rachel."

When they returned to the other girls, Santana saw that Quinn looked as predictably livid as she'd thought she'd be.

"Are you okay, Rachel?"

Rachel smiled at Quinn although she was still sniffing and her eyes were still watery, "I'm fine, Quinn."

"Britts? Walk Frodo to the bathroom, wouldja?"

Brittany smiled as she gave Quinn's a quick, reassuring rub on her back, then took Rachel's hand and led her away.

Quinn watched them for a second, then turned and glared at Santana as she stepped closer, lowering her voice into a hissing whisper, "You mind telling me why you made my girlfriend cry and were touching her chest?"

"First of all? I didn't make her cry, bish. I pointed out a little home truth and she was a little upset I was right. And second, I was buttoning her blouse, not tagging second. _Promise _I know the difference better than you do. Third? I did that because I knew you could take my buttoning up hobby's blouse a hell of a lot better than the student body unbuttoning it with their eyes all day. And the way you're acting right now pretty much proves my point."

Quinn's lips were a tight white line because it was too true.

"That outfit was already getting your crazy on—and I could see it your eyes. One look at you and I knew before third period you'd be acting ten times the ass Finn did when Rachel tried this shit and you'd be ten times more wicked with her and you'd hate yourself. So step the fuck off out of my space and stand down. You know I'm not cool with doing good deeds but when I do, you know what? Not so crazy about having them thrown back in my face."

Quinn deflated at this and tears welled in her eyes.

"Oh the fuck no. Do NOT cry. Britts already knows Frodo cried but if she comes back and sees you've been crying? She'll think it's my fault and then _she'll_ cry and I swear to God, three girls in one day? I'm like the Wicked Witch and shit. I'll melt into a puddle on the floor. Serious up. I'll be gone. And it'll all be on you."

"I'm not going to cry, bitch. I'm just pissed off at myself."

"What the fuck ever. Why bother? Self-denigration is boring. Let's just take it out on the school like we always do."

"I'd love to but we can't now. Well, not exactly like we always do."

"I know that, thanks, and I gotta tell you I feel like a pit bull without teeth."

"You've still got teeth. You're baring them at me now."

"The fuck? That's called a smile, heifer."

"_So_ don't appreciate the cow references these days."

"And when you stop being all bovine, they'll end."

"How exactly am I bovine?"

"With the hobby? You have these big, goopy, gentle eyes and it's like you're happily chewing your cud just looking at her and shit." She smirked, "Standing in a field of sweet green grass mooning over your hobbit."

"I hate you."

"Bullshit. You love me. You said so last night. Oh, hold up! Wait-a-minute—brain wave? When you get your vulture claw out of that cast, let's do Rihanna to burn the midget and Britts."

"What song?"

"_Te Amo_ as a duet. They totes deserve it after that tango shit."

"I like the way you think."

"Which is why it's good you're going to therapy."

"Right?"

"Right—and what's taking them so long?"

Quinn thought for two seconds and sighed, "They're working on their sub in the bathroom. Go get them?"

* * *

Homeroom set Kurt abuzz. Rachel? Looking actually fashionable? He couldn't see a thing wrong with her ensemble, although he might have unbuttoned a few more buttons. Even her makeup was smokier, which was perfect. Hair? Perfect. Hmmm.

Mercedes watched as Rachel helped Quinn adjust her leg and had to admit to herself the girl was built and could bring the sexy. Why was she bringing the sexy now? Seeing the look the two girls exchanged as Rachel patted Quinn's cast? Just as she and her boy had thought. That answer was easy-peasy. Their teacher wasn't in the classroom yet so she picked up her phone.

**Mercedes Jones: Its SO on**

**Kurt Hummel: Its SO obvious**

As Rachel took her seat next to Quinn and even as Mercedes and Kurt glanced knowingly at each other, Quinn turned in her seat and looked back at them, instantly arresting their gloating by saying, "I feel a disturbance in The Force. Do you understand that Star Wars reference?"

Both of them nodded.

"Excellent. So my ability to _feel_ what you're doing behind my back is noted?"

Kurt nodded, "Duly."

When Quinn turned around, Kurt mouthed silently to Mercedes, 'Scary' and she mouthed, 'Totally."

Quinn didn't turn but said, "Nothing to hear but I heard that too, Chocolate Milk."

* * *

Things went fairly well until lunch.

Puck plunked himself down next to Quinn, who was seated next to Rachel, who was seated next to Santana with Brittany by her side.

"I do love me a hot Jew," he said as he reached around Quinn to squeeze Rachel's shoulder but winked at Quinn as he did so. She winked back at him.

Rachel brightened at the exchange, "Hello, Noah. Shall we compare our lunches?"

"Mine's the bomb for you, baby-doll. I have something like some curry tofu wraps with lettuce and tomato and avocado. I don't think my mom understands I'm a man. What'd you get? Get it? WhatdJew get?"

"I did get that, Noah. I think we can trade. I have a portobello mushroom burger. It's just like meat. You'll love it and it's quite filling. We can share my veggie chips."

"Righteous. I only got carrot sticks."

Quinn snarked, "And she loves her carrots."

"I don't appreciate your bringing up bad memories, Quinn."

"Bringing up? Nice choice of words."

"I resent that."

"Wait. Cue the surprise." She bumped Rachel's shoulder and the girl scowled at her food but everyone could see she wasn't angry.

"Rach?"

"Brittany?"

"I have apple slices. That's vegan, right?"

"Completely."

"Could we trade apples for veggie chips, too?"

"Of course. But we don't have to trade. I packed some just for you."

"No way."

"Way."

Santana rolled her eyes and said, under her breath, "The bromance continues."

When Kurt and Mercedes approached the table, Kurt said, "Mind if we sit here?"

Rachel said, happily, "Of course not."

Everyone else at the table, even Brittany, thought it was a bad idea but they let Rachel have her friends as the duo took their seats across from them.

* * *

As Finn walked into the cafeteria, he saw Artie, Tina, Mike, Matt, Sam and Lauren sitting at a table. He was moving past them to the other table when Sam said, "Don't do it, bro. You'll regret it."

"Why?"

"Because, uh, you're like a social disease to them?" Lauren replied.

* * *

"So, Rachel," Kurt began before Quinn quickly cut in. "Before you finish your sentence, remember whatever subtlety you imagine you have is like a brass gong in my ears so no fishing, Mr. Hummel."

"Yes, Kurt?"

He changed topics, "Do you have any ideas for our Asian pop adventure?"

"I'm going to defer to Mike and Tina for their first choices, naturally, as they undoubtedly have ideas we won't. As we're all aware, Latin music has made much more headway into American culture than Asian so we all feel more comfortable making suggestions in that genre. I do find the assignment fascinating, however, and after some research, if they asked my opinion I'd suggest a song by the cantopop artist Stephanie Cheng for Tina or perhaps a song for Tina and Kurt by the Japanese vocalist Aoi Teshima. Also believe I have the perfect Hindi/Gujarati song for Santana to sing. And it's one to which we can all do amazing backing vocals and dancing. I'm tremendously excited."

"The fuck, Frodo?"

"I'll fill you in later, Santana. It's in your upper register but I believe you could easily do it spectacularly well."

"Oh, I get it. It's suck up to Santana time, Rach? Where's your solo?"

Quinn narrowed her eyes at Mercedes, "That all you got out of what Rachel just said, 'Cedes? Seriously?"

Rachel took a bite of one of Brittany's apple slices, "I'm the captain of the Glee club and I take that role seriously, as you know. And I don't have to suck up to Santana, Mercedes, because she's my friend. I don't envision any solo numbers in this exercise at all and will be happy to do back up as needed. Find your own number if you choose to do any research into the genre, which you obviously haven't."

Mercedes laughed as she shook her head, "You think Santana's your _friend_? Hello? Huff glue much?"

Rachel and Brittany put restraining arms on Santana but she shrugged them off and, as she seemed unusually calm, they allowed it. "Heads up? My Cap would normally do this shit and she'd do it meaner and better but she's on the injured list, okay? So listen to me and look me in the eyes, Mercedes Jones. Brittany is mine. Quinn is mine. But Rachel fucking Berry is _ours_. Doubt that and be prepared for a world of hurt. Do you understand me or do I need to get nasty up in here? Because you know I can and will."

Finn chose that moment to lumber over. "What's up guys?"

Everyone stiffened at the table except for Kurt and Mercedes who were already frightened and, nevertheless, could feel the heightened tension.

Puck turned to the Finn and said, "Look at me? I love you like a brother but you need to step away for a few days and learn to come correct to women."

"Yeah—about yesterday—that was lame but you guys know I didn't mean anything by it, right?"

"Puck's right, Finnass. You need to learn to come correct. You've been messing with my hobbit and my Cap and hello? Because we know you? None of us are buying the goofy 'let's be friends' shit you're selling."

"You're the one who's full of shit, Santana."

Rachel again put a restraining arm on Santana's just as Brittany did.

"Okay, dude?" Puck stood up. "I don't know what your malfunction is but it's time to step off."

"Finn, just leave it alone, please." Kurt's voice irritated the shit out of Finn not only because it was soft and high-pitched but because his whatever-brother's was the one he knew he really should listen to.

Santana stood, "Heads up? Finnfuckawitz? I'm not afraid of you. Touch anyone at this table? And that SO includes Kurt or Chocolate and I will make your life hell. And what sucks to be you? You know I can do it."

Finn couldn't take that—couldn't take it—it was such a slam and it was a girl and _that_ girl.

"Fuck you," he hissed.

"Oh right? But I already did that—which took about fifteen seconds. Right, stud?"

Finn kicked a chair as he stormed out of the room.

* * *

Glee met a little early. They were all seated and waiting for Mr. Schue, who was late as always. Finn was boiling watching Brittany play with Rachel's hair and seeing Quinn and Santana laughing. It was wrong. And because he thought it was wrong, he made a vital mistake.

"Brittany?"

"Rach?"

"My skin tone would be all wrong for it but I've always wondered what it would be like to be blonde."

"For real? I can totally show you, Rach."

She stood and put her forehead on the back of Rachel's head and flipped her long hair forward over Rachel's head, which covered the small girl's face.

"See all the blonde hair in the way?"

"Yes."

"Push it out of your eyes and say 'I don't understand.' That's what it's like to be blonde."

Everyone laughed. Mercedes said, "B-girl? You are totes the bomb. Did you just make a blonde joke?"

Finn said, "Why not? She's like a walking blonde joke, right?"

And that cleared the chairs like a dugout clearing after a pitcher intentionally hitting a batter. Everyone stood up so forcefully half the chairs were knocked on the ground. Except for Artie who could only wheel back in horror.

Brittany immediately grabbed Santana and picked her up off the ground and Quinn shouted, "PUCK!" even as Rachel rushed up the stairs toward Finn. Puck easily intercepted the girl and pulled her off her feet before she could attack Finn.

Santana was instantly crying tears of rage, "You're so dead, Finn! DEAD!"

Brittany shook Santana gently back and forth. "Shhh. Don't say that, San. Rachel?"

"What?" Rachel said as she struggled in Puck's arms.

"Let me handle this. Please?"

The two angry girls reluctantly relaxed in their captors' arms and were released back to a standing position although both of their captors kept firm hands on them.

Brittany sighed and looked really mournfully sad as she said, "That was sort of funny, Finn, and I get the joke even though it was sort of a super mean thing for you to say to me. It was mean to basically say I'm stupid when I already know it, okay?"

She shrugged, "It's like everybody in school knows it, right? And I know that."

Santana was shaking her head in fury and anguish and Brittany wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders and said, "Shhh, San, it's okay," before continuing to speak to Finn.

"I'd only say this in Glee because I'm not like you and wouldn't make you sad in front of the whole school. I don't think you understand something, Finn. Everyone knows I'm the dumbest person in this school. But you're the second dumbest person in this school. And everyone in school knows that, too, okay? I'm not kidding. Seriously. _Everyone. _Everyone knows you're sort of a special kid, Finn. Just like me. Maybe except for the people who think being cute and tall and playing football mean something. And I don't. I don't understand why you'd be so mean when you're basically just as dumb as me. Just sayin. And you're not even smart enough to know you're dumb. I'm smarter than you in that way so maybe we're about even. I guess what I'm trying to say is, like, one dummy to another? Don't fuck with me. I don't like it—and look around the room. Nobody else likes it either."

Finn didn't have to look around the room—he looked like he'd been hit in the head with a baseball bat. Actually, the whole Glee club did.

When Mr. Shue walked into Glee, he realized he was walking into an armed camp.

"What's up, guys?'

"Nothing, Mr. Schue."

* * *

**A/N: Next time on Glee: Eric visits Finn and the Hummels and very Faberry, including finding themselves in another compromising position.**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

Mercedes gets her own case of the jelly asshat. Kurt!

Eric Berry has a visit with the Hummels and Judy Fabray sees more than she needs to.

* * *

Mr. Schue could be dim occasionally but, with chairs thrown askew and the ferocity vibrating in the room, he could see something was really wrong. "Seriously, kids? What's up?"

As no one else would have, Rachel dropped dime like a junkie needing to get the hell out of a police station for a fix. Quick and easy, ask and answer. "Finn basically just called Brittany stupid, Mr. Schue, and no one in this club appreciates it."

Will almost ran one hand through his hair, thought better of the product involved and chose to look stern instead. Brittany was certainly…different…but for anyone to actually call her stupid was really out of bounds and…"I'm sure he didn't say anything like—"

Santana spat out, "He frakkin' called my girl a walking blonde joke, Mr. Schue. That's what he called Britts. A walking blonde joke."

Will's face hardened, "Finn? Did you actually say that to Brittany?"

"Well, yeah, but I didn't mean it like that."

"How else could anyone take that? Seriously?"

"What's the big deal? Okay. I'm sorry. It was a stupid thing to say. Whatever."

"Whatever? Okay. How about this? Whatever out the door, Finn."

"What?"

"You're out for the day. We need timeout from someone on our team who abuses a teammate like that."

In the stunned silence that followed, Brittany said quietly, "Mr. Schue. Please let Finn stay. He sucks massively as a dancer but he's a really good singer and stuff and it's not such a biggie to me. You've let everyone totally dog Rach for like forever and you almost never help her. Don't help me if you won't help Rachel. It's totes unfair. Rach deals. I can too. So what if I'm dumb and Rach is the most talented person in Glee? Sucks to be us, I guess. Right?"

As Brittany occasionally had a tendency to do, she'd called Will out on something that was actually true and hard to swallow. He rarely protected Rachel. And he had almost no idea what he should say but decided on, "Fine. Finn stays but, never, ever let me hear any of you say something so disrespectful to another teammate again."

Finn didn't really know what to do. Brittany had basically punched him in the head in front of everyone and he realized he would look like a pussy if he stayed and a bigger pussy if he left. So he only nodded.

As everyone picked up their chairs, Will asked, "So what do we have for Asian pop?"

Everyone looked at Tina and Mike and there was a long pause before Tina said, "I guess I feel like Santana. She wasn't feelin' the whole Latin thing. I mean, just because I'm an American who happens to be Chinese? It's a little weird to think I have these big Asian musical ideas. I mean, I've listened to a few songs some of my Facebook friends listen to but…"

"Yeah," Mike said, "It's not like just because we're Chinese we're all into C-pop."

"I completely understand. Luckily, I have just the ticket!" Rachel said brightly.

Tina and Mike smiled at her. "Of course you do, Rachel," Tina said. The friend she'd semi-neglected for a long time was always there for her.

"Mr. Schue? Have you chosen music for this assignment?"

He had to admit, "Actually, Rachel, I've been looking into it but haven't decided yet."

"I thought not. Naturally, as our team's captain, I've done thorough research and collected a selection of Cantopop, J-pop, K-pop and Hindi-pop songs that I believe will showcase our individual and group talents marvelously."

Mercedes' voice was all snark. "Right. Plus as usual you're somehow going to be choosing music to fit you, right?"

"Me? No. I was choosing music for the club. As I informed you during lunch, I haven't planned any solo for myself. I just wanted for all of us to have an interesting exercise in Asian pop."

"Oh right—like we believe it's not eventually going to work out into being all about you." Mercedes was still burning from Santana's burn over Latin music, "And what right do you have to choose ethnic music, anyway, white girl?"

Rachel stared at Mercedes. "Did you actually just call me white girl? Have you looked at me lately? Personally, I don't like assignments that showcase ethnic music for some sort of 'idea of inclusiveness.' If we want to sing Latin or Asian or whatever songs, so be it, but not as an exercise in multi-culti. Music is music, no matter where it comes from. But if you want to be racial about it, yes in my selections, I left Quinn out, as our usual Caucasian lead singer, Brittany out although she can sing quite credibly. And I left me out because I wanted to showcase our other singers."

"Right. And because you act white enough to pass," Mercedes said even as Kurt, who was appalled, shook his head vigorously no.

"You're calling me white?" Rachel stood and said, "Mercedes? I have two fathers and a birth mother. A Jewish man, a Black man and a Jewish woman. When my Daddy's family was riding in the back of the bus? That was _my father's_ _family_, Mercedes. My heart breaks for that. But how about grabbing a seat in the back of an oven? Most of my Daddy's family and your family died natural deaths, I'd bet you. My Dad's family was toast. Only one person in my Dad's family survived the Holocaust, okay? That was lucky and the only reason I even exist. All they were? All they wanted, all they had? Gone. They're all fucking dead, Mercedes. Gassed in Poland. I have almost no people on my Dad's side because they were gassed and roasted in ovens because they were Jews so just don't even."

The Glee club was used to a diva Rachel but not this sort of diva.

"Screw you for even bringing race into this. I am an ethnic Jew which is very much a race, thank you very much, one I share with Noah. We are people of color, Mercedes. But get this and never doubt it? I would be completely proud to be Caucasian like Quinn and Brittany and Lauren and Artie and Finn or Black like my Daddy or you or Matt. Or Latin like Santana or Asian like Tina and Mike. If you can't wrap your mind around the fact I'm an ethnic Jew who can actually celebrate other people's heritage? This day's over for me."

She marched out of the room.

Noah leapt up to follow her. "Yep. Buh bye."

Quinn stood up, "Oh, yeah. Done for me, too." And she took her crutches and followed Puck.

Santana and Brittany stood up. "As one Latina-Black-German mongrel—I'm out, too."

"I'm just like totally white and I'm not sorry about that." Brittany followed Santana out of the room.

Lauren sneered at Mercedes as she stood up to leave, "One fatty to another? Looks like you just hit a big fat flat note, Fudgesicle. I'm out, too."

Tina stood and said, "I'm with Rachel. I'd like to sing Asian music but hey—my race is not the first thing I think of when I look in the mirror. Out."

Mike said, "I sort of do think Asian in the mirror but not being Asian's cool too so I'm out."

Matt shrugged and said, "I'm proud to be Black but that sucked Mercedes." He followed Mike out of the room.

Artie just glared at Mercedes as he wheeled out of the room.

Will was completely horrified.

Kurt stood up and turned to Will, "Excuse me, Mr. Schue, but I need to speak frankly."

Will nodded.

"Finn, whatever your problem is with Rachel and Quinn being friends? You need to fucking deal with it. Now."

"And you Mercedes? You're my girl but Rachel did nothing at all to warrant that attack against her. What, exactly, is your problem? She's a bigger singer than we are and now she's friends with people who'll protect her? Is that what's getting on your tits all of a sudden? Have you noticed the complete lack of slushies and locker slam attacks lately? Because I sure have. Just keep looking that gift horse in the mouth, Miss Thing, because I'm not going to. I'm so out."

He grabbed his man-purse and left the room.

Will looked at Finn and Mercedes and said, "You have to know that I love and support every single kid in this club—you included? But I am so disappointed in both of you right now. Thanks for bringing nothing but petty envy and childishness to what could have been another great Glee meeting. I guess I'm out, too."

After Will left, Finn said, "Fuck."

"You got that right."

* * *

As Rachel and Quinn got into the car, Rachel said, "I need to do something, Quinn." She punched out a text.

**Rachel Berry: Kurt? Please don't let my storm out hurt your friendship with Mercedes**

**Kurt Hummel: I'm really mad at her right now but we'll deal. We always do**

**Rachel Berry: Good to know**

**Kurt Hummel: You are truly beautiful, R, as a woman, an artist and a person. I've never been selfless enough to tell you that, which makes me selfish but you have always stood up for all of us so there you go **

**Rachel Berry: As I so respect your talent and your courage, your saying that means the world to me. Thank you—oh and you're pretty too**

**Kurt Hummel: You're welcome. Good save at the end. Your taste in clothing, however…**

**Rachel Berry: I'm a work in progress, Mister Hummel**

**Kurt Hummel: And you seem to be progressing with Quinn**

**Rachel Berry: I have no idea what to say to that—or text to that, I guess**

**Kurt Hummel: Please. It's so obvious but as of today I am not talking to Ms. Jones about it. Promise**

**Rachel Berry: Please don't. It hurts us and we don't need that now**

**Kurt Hummel: Won't. I love Ms. J but she really doesn't understand what it's like to be—well, you know**

**Rachel Berry: Thank you, Kurt. And also for not using text-speak**

**Kurt Hummel: I know right?**

**Rachel Berry: Friends?**

**Kurt Hummel: Completely—but I'll still cut you for solos**

**Rachel Berry: Understood**

**Kurt Hummel: Call me if you need fashion advice tomorrow morning**

**Rachel Berry: I'll soon be wearing my owl sweater yet again. No one can defeat my owl!**

**Kurt Hummel: Don't tell? But your wearing that crazy sweater and singing like you do makes me believe in God—just a little bit**

**Rachel Berry: You're a work in progress, too, maybe**

**Kurt Hummel: Perhaps**

**Rachel Berry: See you tomorrow, pretty boy**

**Kurt Hummel: Tomorrow, beautiful girl**

* * *

Finn felt like he was in some sort of hell. He'd fucked up with Rachel, with Brittany and with Glee and now Burt had come downstairs to tell him Eric Berry was coming to meet him and his mom. And he was stupid and everyone knew it?

Fuck!

He kicked his chair across the room.

"Kicking things won't fix this, Finn."

Finn glared at Kurt, whose soft voice never failed both to irritate him and soothe him at the same time and he hated that.

"Fuck off, Kurt."

Kurt walked down the stairs. "Nope. Not going to fuck off. Want to talk about it?"

"What?"

"Your getting justifiably bitch-slapped by Brittany?"

Finn threw himself on his bed and a long couple of minutes went by. Kurt just sat on the side of the bed and waited.

"Am I really as dumb as Brittany?"

"Brittany is…different, Finn. She's a completely brilliant terpsichorean artist—and she's not really all that dumb. Listen to her? Really listen? Some stuff—just let it go—like about Lord Tubbington? But she's uncannily smart in some ways. She really is. You were completely wrong to disrespect her in that way. And you're not dumb. You were smart enough to school me back in the days when I had a crush on you, right?"

Finn nodded.

"You're dumb in one particular way. You don't ever listen to anyone telling you that you can't have things, even things or people you don't even want. Basically you always want to have your way and that's childish. Leave Rachel and Quinn alone."

"It's not right!"

"And it's not your place to say that. I get the fact you don't like that but there it is."

"Why am I getting all the blame?"

"No one's blaming you for anything but the fact you're treating people like crap, Finn."

"That's just fucking wrong."

Kurt nodded and stood, realizing nothing was getting through. "Fine. I'm going to go upstairs. Just know I don't appreciate your attitude but I do love you like a brother and if you need to talk, I'm here."

"Whatever."

Kurt looked at Finn and said, "You may find in teenage vernacular, 'whatever' means more than you think it does. Whatever usually means you're confused and don't have an easy answer to something. Think about that."

* * *

When Eric Berry rolled up in his car, having been updated on the day's events by his daughter, he wasn't particularly surprised that Kurt raced out and said before Eric could even get out of the car, "Eric? Finn's been beaten down today—by your daughter and by Brittany. I'm not kidding. Everybody turned on him. He's really hurting. So I guess I know he deserves what you're going to say but go a little easy. He's a dumbass and Brittany told him that in front of the people who mean the most to him. And it stuck and really hurt him. Believe me."

"You got it, Kurt."

"Thanks."

"You're a good brother."

"It's hard work."

Eric got out of his car as he said, "I only had sisters, bro—so I didn't do your work. I only had to intimidate sad-ass potential boyfriends and buy tampons and stuff."

Kurt shuddered, "Oh. My. God."

"No shit, right? It was like, 'Yeah. That's right. Big black teenager buying super-plus tampons, thank you. Here's the money.' That's when you know you're a man."

"In that case, I don't think I'll ever be a man."

"Give it some time—eventually Mercedes or Rach or Quinn will hit you up and you'll have to just feel all buck plopping them down on the counter. Just look the checkout people in the eye and dare them to laugh. Right of passage, dude."

"I am feeling true fear at this moment."

"No really? Once you've bought tampons for the women you love who aren't your _women? _It sort of feels a little liberating."

"I'll take your word for it."

"But if they have yeast infections and you need to hit _that _medicine or vaginal itch cream—way different story and, hey, I'm saying that and I'm a doctor."

"And now I'm throwing up a little bit in my mouth."

* * *

Carol and Burt Hummel welcomed Eric into their home and made their introductions.

"Please call me Eric. May I call you Carol and Burt?"

"Of course," Carol said.

"Great." Eric took his coat off, which left him in a tight long-sleeve t-shirt that was emblazoned with the slogan 'Know Your Rights.'

He was nearly a head taller than Burt and his incredibly thick muscular torso was fully on display, which all of them understood he'd intended.

"Shall we get to it?"

"I'll call my son."

"Good. And I think Kurt should stay, if you don't mind. Kurt's my daughter's friend."

"Perfect."

Finn marched up the stairs and sat at the kitchen table and only said, "What?"

"Okay? What?" Eric said. "Permission to speak freely, Carol and Burt?"

They nodded.

"I understand Finn and even you, Carol, have a troubled history with Quinn. For like what? One year. One incredibly sad and troubled year that must have wracked you both with pain. I get that. But my daughter has had a decade of sorrow and trouble with Quinn. Am I lying, Kurt?"

"Rachel's been hurt a billion times more than Finn. It's almost a joke comparatively."

"That said? Judy Fabray and Quinn Fabray? They're our friends. Your son went to Judy Fabray's home yesterday and, even when asked, wouldn't leave, he said, without my daughter. Judy was going to call the police but my daughter called Noah Puckerman and Santana Lopez and they came over get him to leave."

"He physically intimidated three women, Burt, Carol. I'm a big man. I'm bigger than your son and I understand he's still a child and I would never hurt him, ever. Unless he asked for it. And he almost did."

He glowered at Finn, "Do you doubt, little boy, I could pound you into paste if I wanted to?"

"No, sir"

"Here's a quick lesson about what you don't do. boy?" Eric glared at Finn. "You NEVER raise your voice to a woman, you NEVER kick furniture or throw things around a woman or make stupid threats around a woman. EVER! If they ask you to leave their presence, you leave. You NEVER ever, ever step into their physical space when you're angry with them. EVER!"

"I've been a big guy nearly all my life. And I had little sisters all my life and learned to protect and care for women. If you do any of those things I just said? That's _violence_ and intimidation_,_ Finn. I really want to hurt you right now because you scared my baby and Quinn and Judy. But I'm not going to because you're just a kid. Just know that violence against my baby or Quinn or Judy or Brittany or Santana? Good luck trying because I'm not putting up with it. And Burt and Carol? I have to protect my child and the people who protect her. Your son's not one of them. He's acting like a ass and I will stand down for now—just to let you know—but I will not put up with his using his physical size to intimidate and threaten my baby or her friends. Are we clear?"

Burt said, "Crystal."

Carol nodded.

"Stand up boy."

"What?"

"I said stand up. I want to show you what it feels like"

"Burt? Carol? I am not going to put one finger on your boy."

Finn stood up and Eric got in his face, "Bitch? I'm not leaving without your ass, you got me? I'm gonna stay in this house until you get in my car and leave with me." He stepped forward and Finn stepped back but Eric crowded him. "No seriously. I'm not leaving without you and even if your parents tell me to leave, I'm not—not without you. Look in my eyes, Finn. Look how angry I am with you and even though you know I said I wouldn't hurt you, you're not quite sure about that, are you?" His face was inches from Finn's. "I'm bigger than you and stronger than you and I'm angry with you and I could so easily hurt you, couldn't I, boy?"

"Yes, sir."

Eric stepped back. "That's what you did to my little girl and to Quinn and to Judy. It's inexcusable."

Finn looked at the floor, "You're right. I'll apologize."

"Apologize from about ten feet away, Finn. You need to stay away from Rachel and Quinn or I'm getting involved. That goes nearly without saying. Also, I swear to God, if you ever, ever say anything mean about Brittany's intelligence again, all bets are off with me."

Carol Hummel's mouth dropped open. She'd met Brittany many times. "Finn? You said something mean about _Brittany_?"

Eric nodded, "Yeah. He only called her a walking blonde joke in front of the whole Glee club, Carol."

"Finn!"

"It was a joke, Mom!"

"A joke that you plus Mercedes' diva envy everyone walked out on," Kurt said. "What's the 11th commandment at William McKinley, Finn?"

Finn mumbled, "Nobody hurts Brittany."

"You hurt Brittany."

"Right. But she didn't act all that hurt, did she?"

"Oh for God's sake, Finn. Grow up! How is she supposed to act? What is she supposed to do? When people call me a fag or a pansy or queer or worse, I have to just pull my chin up and suck it up. If you basically call Brittany retarded to her face, what is she supposed to do? Don't you think that hurt her? If you don't think it did, you're brain damaged, not dumb. It all hurts, Finn. You're punishing Rachel for nothing, punishing Quinn for things she can't seem to apologize enough for and you're punishing Brittany for something she's never done. What's wrong with you? You never look at you, Finn. You never think the problem might be you. Maybe you should."

He stood, "Dad, Carol, Eric, please excuse me—I think I've reached my limit with family time."

Burt said, "You're excused, son."

When Kurt had left the room, Burt said, "Carol, it's your call. You know I love and think of Finn as my son but he's your boy. It's your right to say what you want to."

Carol wiped tears from her eyes as she said, "Finn. You are a wonderful young man. But you're not acting the way you should toward women. I'm so sorry your father died and left you no way to know how to act like a man but he'd tell you, I promise you, not to do what you're doing. He'd love you and be proud of you, just like I am, like Burt and Kurt are, but you can't say and do these things and think they somehow don't count. Do you understand that, sweetheart?"

Finn was ashamed to feel tears welling in his eyes.

"I do. And I don't know why I do it."

Eric saw the conversation was getting too heavy and too sad for the young man so he said, "Just knowing's the first part, dude. Got a football?"

"Of course."

"Let's see whatcha got, big guy. Out in the yard, bro. I was a badass quarterback before you were a sparkle in your daddy's eye. Promise."

He winked at Carol and Burt who smiled at him.

* * *

Burt and Carol watched them as they threw the football in the backyard to each other for a few minutes.

Eric strode over to say, "Finn, let me tell you something. You need to think about your receiver. Where he is, how he's moving…you're delivering the mail—the receiver's the most important person in a quarterback's world. When you think that way, the game gets better and you get better. Call some patterns for me and watch. I'm more important than you. Every receiver is. Let's hit it."

Finn called patterns and Eric ran them—but sometimes faked as if the secondary were dogging him. Finn adjusted and hit him every time.

After about thirty minutes, a very sweaty Eric ran up to Finn and knuckle bumped him. "You're the bomb, Hudson."

"Thanks!"

Eric put his hand on Finn's shoulder and lowered his voice, "Everyone you know in life is your receiver. Be kind and throw your football so they can catch it, son. People want to catch what you're throwing if you're really thinking of them, feeling them. You can do it on the field? You can do it in life, okay?"

"Yes sir."

"Your father would be proud of you, Finn."

Finn shifted in embarrassment under Eric's hand. "Why?"

"Because you're growing and learning. Takes time, bro. I was an asshole when I was your age, too."

"Really?"

"Totally."

"Thanks."

"No problem. But my baby and Quinn and Brittany? Off limits. Got it?"

"Yes sir."

"I'd say Santana too but I think she can fend for herself."

Finn ducked his head, "No lie. She's the scariest person I've ever met."

"Me too. And I grew up in New York."

They smiled at each other.

"Thank you, Mr. Berry."

"Eric. Stay away from my baby and Quinn for a while and I know you'll eventually all be friends again. Give it time, okay?"

"Yes sir."

* * *

As Rachel helped Quinn into her home, it was everything she could do not to—

Fuck it.

She pushed Quinn onto the couch in the front room.

"Can we kiss? When's your mom coming home?"

"Kiss? Definitely. Like in two hours? She has some real estate meeting with some dude."

"I'm so tired of your turtleneck. I need to kiss your neck. I promise I won't make more marks."

Quinn pushed at Rachel's shoulders, "I'll only be wearing a bra if I take that off. Got that?"

"It's like a bikini, right? Couldn't we deal with swimwear?"

Quinn wanted to laugh but didn't. "Right—but you need to take that irritating blouse off."

So, in short order, Quinn was in her bra and Rachel was in her bandeau top.

Both of them were deeply kissing each other, completely tagging second base and so involved in it that Judy walked in and had to faux-cough to make her presence known.

The two girls leapt away from each other as Quinn said, "I didn't know you'd be home this early."

"Clearly. Rudy has the flu and cancelled."

"Wow. Okay. Sorry, mom."

Rachel sat up and said, "This is new for us, Judy, and…"

She saw Judy looking at the marks on Quinn's neck, "I didn't do that just now. That was yesterday."

Quinn exhaled in a sort of horror before Rachel said, "Oh my God, this is worse than the police."

"Word vomit much, Rach? Mom? Sorry."

"I'm not upset about your being teens in love, although I really don't need to see it, but I do want to hear about the police."

* * *

**A/N: My bestie's family had a similar story as Rachel's dad. Her father's family was completely exterminated during the Holocaust except for he and his mother who were lucky enough to get passage to the United States. Her father became a world-renowned industrial designer. She's a sculptor. Now that her father has died, literally no one remains of that family except for her and her sister.**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**Super short chapter—I'm going back out of town. Quinn and Rachel explain stuff. A whole lotta Burt and Kurt…and Glee!**

* * *

Judy said, "First thing's first? More clothing would be appropriate, girls."

The woman almost laughed at the frantic scramble as both girls grabbed their blouses and donned them.

"Okay. Now that you're clothed, let's hear about the police."

Rachel opened her mouth to speak and Quinn actually clapped her hand gently over the girl's mouth. "No sweetheart. No overshare. I'll tell the story, okay?"

Rachel nodded.

Quinn explained the police situation as Judy took a seat in an armchair.

"You're very lucky as I'm sure you realize that such a kind police officer stopped you in your borderline illegal activities."

Both girls nodded.

"I assume you two have come to a certain understanding?"

"We've decided to be girlfriends, yes," Rachel answered.

"Although, believe it or not, I understand what it's like to be teenagers, I think you're moving ahead of yourselves."

"Mom—I can—"

"Quinn. Stop. I'm not talking about your being gay or about your having sex. I'm talking about both of you as people."

"What do you mean?"

"You just started therapy, Quinn, and you're making out with a person who's one of the main reasons you're _in_ therapy, and not through her fault, I might add. And if I hadn't walked in, how far do you imagine you'd have gone? It's not fair to either of you, sweetie. You'll go farther than you should more quickly than you should and that would be a huge mistake for both of you."

Rachel and Quinn sat for a few moments before Rachel said, "You're right. I was the instigator of this and I'm sad to say that I'd asked Quinn to manage our behavior toward each other, which wasn't fair at all. We love each other and, naturally, we wish to express ourselves but it's not healthy at this point."

Quinn shook her head. "What are you saying? We can't kiss?"

"No. We can kiss, but we need to remain upright, clothed and keep our hands off erogenous zones."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," Judy said as she crossed toward the kitchen, "Stay for dinner, Rachel?"

Rachel nodded as she pulled her cellphone out. "Love to—but I'll ask."

Judy left the room but before Rachel dialed her phone, Quinn said, "Considering? That was crazy easier than I thought."

"I know right? You're mom's so cool."

"Who knew?"

"It's probably a surprise to her too."

"Rachel?" Quinn's face and tone were serious.

"Yes?"

"I really think your plan's best. I don't want to make out with you until we're just having unplanned teenage sex. I've done that and you know what I got for it. I want, when we're both ready and we're really not ready right now, to be able to make love, okay?"

"That sounds perfect. And you have to know, just in case you're wondering? My virginity's completely yours."

Quinn inhaled sharply. "And I know you know how much that just turned me on."

Rachel winked, "A girl's gotta use what she's got."

"You do realize that you're a demonic being in pint-size gorgeous Jewish form?"

"Oh? You noticed? Like it?"

"Love it. Call your fathers. Stay for dinner."

"I wish _you_ were my dinner, frankly."

"Holy sh—…uh, Rach? What's gotten into you?"

"Well unfortunately not you. Not yet, anyway."

"Oh. My. God."

"What? I'm a passionate person and I can only kiss your beautiful mouth at this point. I do at least get to talk dirty, don't I? Or does that offend you?"

"No offense taken and talk dirty with me every moment of your life."

"Somehow I knew that would be your reaction but no. I'll stop being crass but it _was _fun to see your face change colors."

"I hate you."

"No you don't.'

Quinn smiled, "No I don't."

* * *

Once Eric had left, Burt walked out onto the back porch, where Finn was, evidently, just staring at the grass.

He took a seat next to the boy. "Wanna talk about it?"

"What?"

"Oh, I don't know, intimidating women, dissing Brittany? Maybe stuff like that?"

"What's there to talk about? I did it and I'm sorry."

"Really? You're sorry?"

"Of course."

"Okay—let's hear why you're sorry you messed with the Fabrays."

"I guess it wasn't nice or maybe scary that I did that."

"You guess? Was it a little scary when Eric got all up in your face?"

Finn paused, "Yeah."

"And you knew for a fact he wasn't going to hit you in front of us, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think maybe Quinn and Judy and Rachel had near the same sense of security you did?"

Finn thought for a long moment, "Probably not."

"Definitely not would be my guess. Finn, let me tell you something? And this may seem like it's out of left field but I don't think it is. You lost your dad and I'm really so sorry about that you can't know. Because Kurt lost his mom. I mean, your mom lost her man and I lost my woman but you guys both lost people who are completely irreplaceable to children. You can't know how many times I wish I had Kurt's mother with me, with him—to help him—to say stuff I wouldn't know how to say 'cause I'm a dude. But your mom's in the same fix as me. I bet you a million bucks no day goes by she doesn't miss your dad and wish like hell he was here with her and for you. And hey, I'm married to her. I don't resent that, Finn. I really wish for your mom's sake and for yours that your dad was here and I was just looking at your happy family when you came into my garage to get your car fixed or something. Okay? And that Kurt's mother, my dearest baby-girl, had just dropped off lunch to me or something like that. And that we could all just be friends."

Finn felt tears welling in his eyes.

"But that's not how it worked out, buddy. Did it? Now we're a mixed-up family and I know it's not how we wanted life to go, okay? But it is what it is. For better or worse, you're my son, even if you don't feel like I'm your dad? Because you shouldn't. I could never replace your dad. But I _am _a man and I do love your mother and my son and I love you. Talk to me if you need to. I'll always help you and defend you but, man to man, and I'm sure your father would tell you this because your mom's told me lots about him? You need to learn to let things go—you need to understand when shit doesn't go your way, sometimes you just have to accept it. It's like with your dad's death or Kurt losing his mom? Who on Earth wants to accept that sort of loss? But you can't take it out on other people for the rest of your life, Finn. Seriously. You just can't. It hurts them and it hurts you more. You're shooting at targets that aren't the real target, son."

Finn began to weep in earnest. "I just wish I'd really known him and could talk to him."

Burt put his hand on Finn's shoulder, "I wish you had too, Finn. Me, too."

Burt kept his hand on Finn's shoulder as the boy cried himself into silence and they both looked out at the lawn for a very, very long time without saying a word. Like guys.

* * *

"Lord Tubbington is eating the last bit of fondue."

"About that, Britts? LT needs a little less cheese in his diet."

"Why?"

"Cats like cheese but it's not so good for them, baby."

"But milk is like cheese, right?"

"Yeah, baby. It's dairy but it's heavier. He should only have just a little bit of milk, serious up. And don't let him eat but just a little bit of fondue, 'kay? It'll mess with his digestive system." Santana knew this for a fact but crossed her fingers and said, "My dad said so."

"Really? Okay. Cool. Our dad's a doctor—so that makes sense. Our mom's making some sort of weird macaroni pie with jalapenos just for you. Are you coming?"

"When don't I when I'm with you?"

Long pause.

"That was a really naughty thing to say, San."

"Uh huh."

"And I liked it.'

"And I love you. Yeah. Macaroni pie for the win!"

* * *

Mercedes' mom let Kurt in without a word, if rolling her eyes at top volume could be called silence. Kurt had known her forever so he rolled his right back.

She pulled him into a hug and whispered, "Acting out?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. Pulled the race card on Rachel in Glee."

"Seriously? I got it. Jealous dog. Go fix her."

"Will do."

* * *

Kurt knocked on Mercedes' door.

"I'm not through with my own self-imposed time-out, Mama."

"How about letting a brother in?"

"Open the door."

Kurt did and saw Mercedes propped up in bed reading a book.

"What do you need, turncoat?"

"Turncoat?"

"You took Rachel's side against me."

Kurt walked in and closed the door behind him. "Because you were acting like an ass, Mercedes. I'd hope you'd do the same for me. Or do you only want friends who rubber-stamp everything you do? I'm not that sort of friend."

"I wasn't wrong."

"Okay. Tell me how bringing Rachel's ethnicity into the club had anything to do with what was pertinent to our exercise."

Mercedes sat up and tossed her book aside. "She makes every single thing about her!"

"And how did researching Asian music make everything about her?"

"She got to show us up!"

Kurt shook his head, "She took the time and effort to do something for the club. What did anyone else do—even Mr. Schue—for the exercise?"

"Still."

"You're a smart woman, Mercedes. You totally know shit from Shinola and I'm not buying this. Spill—if you want to but don't think I don't love you and don't support you. Because I always have and always will. But I just won't always say, 'Oh great—Mercedes got a case of the ass and I have to stand by and hurt someone else I care for.'"

Huge tears suddenly ran down Mercedes' cheeks. "She's going to get it all, Kurt!"

"What are you talking about?"

"She's going to be on fucking Broadway, Kurt! I know that—anyone knows that! Everyone knows that! I hate her! It's going to be so easy for her!"

Kurt took a seat on the edge of Mercedes' bed and said quietly, "You have to know that I love you with all of my heart, Mercedes, and you've been someone I've counted on and laughed with and cried with for years but tell me? And be honest, angel. Please. We've known Rachel since grade school. Exactly what part of Rachel Barbara Berry's life has been easy for her?"

Mercedes began to cry in earnest and Kurt pulled Kleenex from his man purse and handed them to her.

"Mercedes? Rachel is going to be exactly what she wants to be and not because it's easy—it's really hard for her and no one we know works harder than she does. You know that."

Mercedes nodded and wiped her eyes, "It just makes me so mad sometimes."

"It pisses me off, too, honey, but we have to live with the fact she has the talent. Hell, _we_ have the talent. But she also has the drive, sweetie. And talent without drive lands me and you singing fantastic Karaoke in Lima, Ohio. Don't hate her because she's obviously got what we both need to get our asses out of here. And please don't kid yourself into thinking it's easy for her. She's been hurt more than anyone we know—for years—and if you're honest with yourself, you'll admit that."

"But what about Quinn?"

"What about her?"

"What's this all about—Quinn wants to tap that ass, obviously, but why would Rachel put up with that?"

Kurt kept his face neutral. "I know we've gossiped about motives but I'm not so sure now. I think Quinn's just trying to change her tune."

"To gay?"

"Who knows? Maybe just to human?"

"Not possible."

"Completely possible."

"Why?"

"Oh I don't know? She was a homeless 15 year-old girl who carried a baby for nine months and went through a natural and painful labor. She pushed a child out of her vagina, which legend tells me and I thankfully don't know anything about, is pretty damned small, into the world? And chose to give her up, Mercedes, for the child's sake. Have you or I ever done anything as selfless as that?"

"Well…no."

"Then why don't you just give her a chance?"

"She's never given me one."

"More the burn if you do, sistah."

"You have a point."

"I always do. And Mercedes?"

"Kurt?"

"Leave Rachel alone."

* * *

Sam was so fucked up he could barely see or speak.

Matt waved his hand in front of Sam's face as the boy said, "Dude. Pain pills rule."

"I know right?"

Sam had had an emergency root canal and Matt filled him in on the day's events.

"No…way."

"Way, dude."

Sam slurred, "But that sucks because I really wanted to do Hindi-pop," before he passed out.

* * *

**Mercedes Jones: I'm sorry I was an ass today**

**Rachel Berry: Accepted. Forgiven. I never expect anything else from anyone**

**Mercedes Jones: Harsh much?**

**Rachel Berry: True much?**

**Mercedes Jones: How do you even deal?**

**Rachel Berry: I look at my future. Maybe you should**

**Mercedes Jones: What's my future?**

**Rachel Berry: As bright as you want it to be. I'm still angry with you but sleep well. You're a gold star. I mean it. I believe in your talent quite whole-heartedly**

**Mercedes Jones: I'm really am sorry**

**Rachel Berry: And I accept that. Thank you. But you said what you said and I know you meant it and still do. I'll always be better than anyone's anger or envy. Always. Goodnight**

Mercedes let Kurt see their exchange and he only said, "Fuck."

"Succinct, baby-boy."

* * *

The next day was fraught with tension. The Asian exercise was given up because Rachel refused to give suggestions.

"No really, Mr. Schue, I'm sure you and the rest of the club have plenty of ideas."

"Well, not really."

"So be it. Although I was excited by the prospect of hearing and performing Asian music, I suppose we should move on to some other exercise. I'm quite sure you have one. Obviously, although I'm the captain of this team, I realize I shouldn't act like the go-to-girl and suggest musical selections because it offends my fellow team-members. From now on? I'll defer to everyone's complete indifference. If you want to just be epic failures, I'll watch. And sing occasionally if you ask me to. But only if asked. You need me. I don't need you."

Santana said, "Frodo?"

"Santana?"

"That? _That _was scorching hot."

"Thank you, S."

"You got it, LD."

"Rachel, I don't think you need to put it like that."

"Mr. Schue? Are you kidding? You let everyone mock me—you yourself scoff at me but I am your one go-to-singer and everyone in this club knows it. I'm the one who'll knock it out of the park if needed and you and everyone else in this room knows that and what do I get for it? Nothing. NOTHING!"

"How about this? I'll sing something that I wanted Tina to do. She'd do much better justice than I would to the piece because it suits her range better than mine but she'd to have to learn it phonetically in Japanese, which of course I've taken the trouble to do. It's by Aoi Teshima."

She handed Brad the music. "Brad, do you mind?"

"Never, Rachel."

She sang it in Japanese and as she finished and moved to leave the room, Kurt stood and said. "Don't leave. I love you, girl."

Santana stood, "Me too, Hobby."

Mercedes said, "Me too, sister."

Brittany stood and said, "Me too, Rach."

Quinn stood and said, "Rachel?"

Rachel turned around.

"Don't leave me."

Rachel stared at her.

"_You_? I never would."

* * *

**A/N Sorry so short but I felt you needed to get something different after that last heavy bit. And here's a link to the song Rachel sang:**

**And evs this interface effs with you trying to link to youtube: http:(forwardslashtwice)**

**/1VWc6OzD5jw/1VWc6OzD5jw**

**Or hell, just look up Aoi Teshima on youtube? Haru no Kashuu is the song  
**


	33. Chapter 33

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**A/N: This is a **_**very **_**short chapter. In fact, please skip it if you want. RL has attacked me like 25 velociraptors on crystal meth. And that's actually not hyperbolic on my part. Family member in hospital now, etc.**

**This will be my **_only_** song chapter although I've been thinking about it for a while. It is Glee after all.**

**I can include songs but I _don't_ write song-fic because 1) I don't like writing it or reading it, frankly and 2) unless your readers are familiar with the songs, who tf cares, right? That said? I do happen to have a point to all of the songs and chose them quite carefully. If you're not familiar with the songs or how the harmonies might work in Santana and Puck's? I'm giving you links to them. You may have to cut and paste them because they're not acting happy in the FF interface. **

**And do remember I said you could skip this if you wanted and not miss much. Next chapter soon when said family member is better. Because FF is sometimes a bish? Yep, great. FF won't let me link.**

**Ok imagine, in your fantasy world, there was something called http(colon) forward slash, forward slash period, then www, a period and then the word youtube before**

**Quinn's: **.com/watch?v=ifQzYuKCpYE

**Santana's: **.com/watch?v=09Bm9g6ceKE

**Puck's: **.com/watch?v=LcnHjjLdNXQ

**Mercedes: **.com/watch?v=gGAiW5dOnKo

**Rachel: **.com/watch?v=VZ94E6oqvrE

* * *

The club waited for a few seconds as Rachel seemed to wrestle with herself but paced back to her seat and sat beside Quinn. Quinn, Santana, Brittany and Kurt, who actually wanted to smile, wisely chose not to acknowledge it. The rest of the kids in the club were stunned.

Artie whispered to Tina, "Was that an aborted diva storm out?"

She nodded and whispered, "Yeah. Are you seeing pigs flying in front of your eyes?"

Mr. Schue brightened at Rachel's unexpected action, "Alright guys, since maybe we need to put our Asian assignment on the back burner for a while, anyone have any ideas?"

Everyone looked at Rachel as he looked at Rachel, who'd folded her arms over her chest. Will was giving her what she imagined he must consider a 'let bygones be bygones' boyish, hopeful grin.

"I have nothing, Mr. Schue. As for the rest of the Glee Club, consider me to be—and quoting Dr. Frankenfurter, 'breathless with antici….._pation_.'"

Burn, everyone thought.

Santana shook her head. "Frodo?"

"Santana?"

"Who said hobbits didn't have horns?"

"Certainly not I."

"Gotcha. Mr. Schue I actually have an idea." Mr. Schue looked at Santana with a mixture of gratitude and anxiety because Santana's picture was next to the definition of mischief in his personal dictionary.

"Let's hear it."

"Since errybody's feeling all angsty and mad up in the club, why don't we sings songs about anger?"

"Well, Santana, I think that—"

"I'm _so_ not finished, Mr. Schue. Rules would totes be you couldn't sing at other peeps in the club or so obvious everyone knows the deal."

"Well—"

Quinn sighed, "Mr. Schue? Catharsis much? You keep wanting us to do exercises that force us into feelings of camaraderie. And I'd bet you'd be surprised by the songs we chose to express our anger. Do you think all you'd get is something like Korn or Tool or death metal from us? Anger's an inch away from sadness. And plenty of us are sad right this minute."

Rachel glanced at her and Quinn said, "And some are only semi-sad."

Mr. Schue nodded, "Well, I suppose that might be an interesting assignment but I agree with Santana. This can't be an exercise in petty grievances or outright anger against each other."

Santana tilted her head in acknowledgement, "Exactly! That's exactly as I might have expressed it, Mr. Schuester, were I as remotely verbally adroit as you are."

Will stared at Santana. Quinn smirked and said, "Watch it, Lefty. Something's showing."

"Oh right. Sorry. That was totes what I was sayin', Mr. Schue."

Will knew he was again outside some teenage joke but it came with the territory. "Okay—well, we have some time so would anyone like to add something—perform something?"

No one had because no one had really expected Rachel to actually keep up her attitude on the Asian exercise except for Quinn, Santana and Brittany.

Quinn said, "I have something I was thinking about—and I even have the sheet music."

Rachel stared at her. Quinn winked at her. "I have secret depths, Frodo."

She stood and handed the music to Brad who looked at it and smiled. She handed the sheet music around and said, "This is actually in keeping with Santana's assignment, although that wasn't my original intention. This, I suppose, was my angry song last year. It's called _Sullen Girl_, by Fiona Apple. I've changed the lyrics slightly to reflect my feelings."

She stood and nodded at Brad, who began to play.

_Days like this, I don't know what to do with myself_

_All day, and all night_

_I wander the halls along the walls_

_And under my breath, I say to myself,_

_"I need fuel to take flight"_

_And there's too much going on_

_But it's calm under the waves_

_In the blue of my oblivion_

_Under the waves in the blue of my oblivion_

_Is that why they call me a sullen girl, sullen girl?_

_They don't know I used to sail the deep and tranquil seas_

_But they washed me ashore_

_And they took my pearl_

_And left an empty_

_Shell of me_

_And there's too much going on_

_But it's calm under the waves_

_In the blue of my oblivion_

_Under the waves in the blue of my oblivion_

_Under the waves in the blue of my oblivion_

_It's calm under the waves_

_In the blue of my oblivion_

When she'd finished, everyone was a little stunned but Puck was the first to speak. "Thank you, Quinn."

"You're welcome, Noah. That was for you, too, and you know why."

He couldn't remember the last time or even if she'd ever called him Noah, so he only said, "Yeah. I know that."

When she took her seat, Rachel, put her arm around Quinn's shoulder and kept it there for a second before patting it, then removing it. "That was beautiful," she said to the room.

Will said, "It really was," as the rest of the club murmured their approval.

Will grinned and said, "Well, that goes to show different kinds of music can show different shades of emotion. Show of hands for people who feel like they can work up some suggestions for this exercise."

Everyone lifted hands except for Rachel.

"Oh, come on, Rachel. You made your point. Don't keep playing the hater card—you know you can think of something angry to sing."

"On the contrary, Mercedes, it's deciding between the hundreds of songs I actually could sing for that emotion that give me pause."

Mercedes rolled her eyes, "We said we were sorry, Rach. We're trying. What's your malfunction?"

"I'm functioning at full capacity, thank you. Or past that, as is normal for me."

Mercedes was just about to get out of her seat and take a little issue when Santana said, "I've got something—hell, I've thought of it for a long time and it's not even for this exercise either."

Will dreaded what she might be suggesting but was heartened by Santana's passing out the sheet music to the band and to everyone else. Rachel looked it over quickly and said. "This is completely appropriate, Mr. Schue, and quite beautiful actually. Does anyone else know it?"

No one said a word.

Rachel whispered to Santana as the girl knelt before her, "I adore this song, know it cold and it'll be easy for our band. But it's actually better as a duet because of the harmony involved."

"I know. I'm asking you to sing it with me."

Rachel said, "Of course. I'll take the low harmony. Sing it however you want to and I'll follow you."

"I know you can, _ese_."

"Stop with the _ese_; just try to keep up with me, _mami_."

"That's what she said."

Rachel pulled Santana into a tight hug and whispered, "You do know what this is saying if you sing it?"

Santana whispered back, "That I love Brittany and love my God and I'm mad at anyone who says things about us otherwise?"

"Quick study."

Santana whispered, "Can you sing a song I consider my faith in your faith?"

"Oh please. With bells on. Let's do it, _chica_."

"Whatever."

They pulled away from each other. "Your loquacity astounds me."

"I think trenchant is the term, bish."

"Hi, Calvin Coolidge."

"Ruh roh. She knows vocabulary _and_ history."

Santana passed the music to the band and to the other club members.

It took a few minutes before the musicians were cued and they played four bars before Santana began to sing.

_I don't wanna be no man's woman_

_It don't make me happy this mantrolling_

_thing that you got for me so I become_

_no man's woman_

Rachel joined an octave deeper:

_I don't wanna be no man's woman_

_I've other work I want to get done_

_I haven't traveled this far to become_

_no man's woman_

_no man's woman_

_Cause I'm tired of it_

_and I'm so scared of it_

_that I'll never trust again_

_Cause a man can fake you_

_take your soul and make you_

_miserable in so much pain_

Santana began to jump in place with the pace of the song and Rachel jumped along with her and they both sang it with ferocity.

_My friends think I'm alone but I've got secrets_

_I don't tell everything about the love I get_

_I got a lovin' man but He's a spirit_

_He never does me harm never treats me bad_

_He'd never takes away all the love he has_

_and I'm forgiven oh a million times_

They stopped jumping and obviously just moved into enjoying singing something shared between them.

_I'm never tired of it_

_and I'm not scared of it_

_Cause it doesn't cause me pain_

_Like a man can fake you_

_take your soul and make you_

_never be yourself again_

_I never wanna be no man's woman_

_I only wanna be my own woman_

_I haven't travelled this far to become_

_no man's woman _

_no man's woman_

_no man's woman_

* * *

"Okay, wow. Thoughts, guys?"

No one said a word before everyone clapped and whooped.

Puck stood up. "That was frackin' brilliant."

Kurt stood as well. "I can't say…really. I mean, well, wow. I guess I don't have words for being brave. Thank you, Santana."

Santana winked at Kurt even as she said, "Whatever."

Will felt something he only rarely felt—that the kids really wanted to say things and he wasn't in control and maybe he shouldn't be. "Anyone else?"

Puck said, "Well, I think maybe I got something, too."

Will was astonished but said, "You have sheet music?"

"No. Don't need it. Just me and a guitar. And I'm not angry but I'm sad angry and Quinn's right. That's what a lot of us are."

Rachel immediately went to him and quietly talked to him about his choice.

She spoke up, "That's a wonderful song, Noah. It is, Mr. Schue." And suddenly Rachel was captain again.

Will nodded.

"Sing it with, Rach?"

She whispered, "They'll hate me, Noah."

He whispered back at her, "I won't. Does that count? At all?"

She looked into his dark brown eyes. "Of course not. I know the song—I'll double you and sing high when you go low."

"You're my Jew."

"Always."

He began to play and sang:

_I'm in love with the world through the eyes of a girl_

_who's still around the morning after_

Rachel began to sing with him, exactly, tonally:

_We broke up a month ago and I grew up I didn't know_

_I'd be around the morning after_

She put her arm around his shoulder as he played.

_it's always been wait and see_

_a happy day and then you pay_

_and feel like shit the morning after_

_but now I feel changed around and instead of falling down_

_I'm standing up the morning after_

_situations get fucked up and turned around sooner or later_

_and I could be another fool or an exception to the rule_

_you tell me the morning after_

Puck dropped at least an octave and Rachel harmonized:

_crooked spin can't come to rest_

_I'm damaged bad at best_

_she'll decide what she wants_

_I'll probably be the last to know_

_no one says until it shows; see how it is _

They brought their voices back together:

_they want you or they don't_

_say yes_

_I'm in love with the world through the eyes of a girl_

_who's still around the morning after_

Rachel kissed Noah on the cheek and everyone clapped.

Will said, "That's the sort of stuff I like to see. Real emotion. Guys, that really rocked."

"Because Rachel helped with two of the solos?"

Will frowned, "She supported two solos. They weren't duets."

"But she said she wasn't singing anything, right?"

Kurt just shook his head.

"I supported two team-members in performances they made to the club, Mercedes. Did you know the songs they asked to sing? Really? Did you? Could you have assisted them if they'd asked?"

Mercedes shifted in her seat uneasily.

"I'll take that as no. No one else did either. Why did I accompany them? Well? Oh wait, because I knew the songs and could."

"So still little Ms. Perfect?"

"Exactly. Mr. Schue? I'm leaving Glee Club. I don't need this."

"Rachel, this is—what you really want?"

"Not really but I'm not following lemmings off a cliff, thank you, or letting people abuse me anymore. A few people have recently made me understand I don't have to just sit and take abuse because those few people actually love, support and defend me."

"I wasn't attacking you Rachel."

"Are you five years old, Mercedes? Oh wait. In Glee Club? Yes you are. Excuse me, Mr. Schue, for my language but I say sing your fucking angry song, Mercedes! Right this minute. Let's hear it. Nearly everything you sing is angry or petulant, and I notice that even if no one else does, by the way. Because I happen to pay attention to you. I bet that's staggering, right? That someone actually cares about or listens with complete interest to your singing and enjoys it? So go on. I know you have something on the back burner. Don't make me guess who it's by because I could."

Mercedes felt herself flush with what felt like horror under Rachel's eviscerating verbal knife but she wasn't going to give up a moment. "Fine."

She passed out her sheet music and began to sing, quite soulfully and beautifully.

_Chain, chain, chain, chain, chain, chain_

_Chain, chain, chain, chain of fools_

_Five long years I thought you were my man_

_But I found out I'm just a link in your chain_

_You got me where you want me_

_I ain't nothing but your fool_

_You treated me mean oh you treated me cruel_

_Chain, chain, chain, chain of fools_

_Every chain has got a weak link_

_I might be weak child, but I'll give you strength_

_You told me to leave you alone_

_My father said come on home_

_My doctor said take it easy_

_Whole bunch of lovin is much too strong_

_I'm added to your chain, chain, chain_

_Chain, chain, chain, chain,_

_Chain, chain of fools_

_One of these mornings the chain is gonna break_

_But up until then, yeah, I'm gonna take all I can take_

_Chain, chain, chain, chain, chain, chain_

_Chain, chain, chain, chain of fools_

Everyone clapped uproariously.

"That was brilliant, Mercedes!" Rachel clapped happily.

"Yeah? Well, thanks Rachel. I guess you are, after all, happy as a stand-in."

Rachel didn't even bother to answer the girl. Glee was over for the day. She grabbed her bag.

Then that damned Deryk on their band's synth keyboard stopped her, "How bout me and you, Rach? Let's play something."

"_What_? Deryk—that's private."

"What? People dissing you? No. Not so much. Fucking sing Bjork, Rach. I've got your back."

Glee club was actually running way over but Will asked, "What are you talking about, Deryk?"

"I'm a big Bjork fan and she helps me with arranging songs once a week after school."

Quinn stared at Rachel, who said, "What? It's a Gleeky secret."

"I love Gleeky secrets. Sing something for me, Rachel."

Deryk nodded, "I'll just start it and do the sequencing—you sing it."

Rachel stood in front of the microphone and said, "I'm doing this for Deryk—not for any of you except maybe for four of you."

When Deryk started his sequences, Rachel pulled away from the mike because it was so bang on that she had to laugh and smile at him, but she stood back up to it and gave it her all:

_stand up_

_you've got to manage_

_i won't sympathize_

_anymore_

_and if you complain once more_

_you'll meet an army of me_

_you're alright_

_there's nothing wrong_

_self-sufficience please!_

_and get to work_

_and if you complain once more_

_you'll meet an army of me_

_you're on your own now_

_**I**__ won't save you_

_your rescue-squad_

_is too exhausted_

_and if you complain once more_

_you'll meet an army of me_

When the song was over, Rachel stepped over and high-fived Deryk. "Oh my God! You've done that _perfectly_, my man."

She walked over to Quinn, pulled her into a hug and whispered into her ear, "I am NOT leaving you. I'm saving my self-respect by walking, okay?"

Quinn whispered, "Got it. Go."

Rachel stood and said, "Santana?"

"Yeah?"

"Help Quinn please? That will facilitate my diva storm out. Got it?"

"Sweet." Santana smiled, "On it like a rocket, Hobbs "

"Thanks. Later, Lima!"

**A/N: I'm working on a 'real' chapter now.**

**To be perfectly fair to Fiona Apple's song, which I believe is far more poignant in origin, I think Quinn is making an equivalence, as a very young woman, to something taken from her she can never regain and always associating it with pain. And pain makes Quinn angry. That was my rationale behind the song choice. I would never make equivalence between what purportedly created this song with Quinn's experience ever.**

**In case you weren't interested in the songs? I still must give credit to them:**

**Santana? Sinead O'Connor: No Man's Woman**

**Puck? Elliott Smith: Say Yes**

**Mercedes? Aretha Franklin: Chain of Fools**

**Rachel? Bjork: Army of Me**


	34. Chapter 34

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**A/N: Thank you, everyone, for putting up with the songfic chapter. Now on with the show. Another super short chapter. Family member still in hospital but everything's going to be alright. **

**As a matter of fact, if some of you don't know that or aren't feeling that right as you read this? No matter what's going on—things **_**will**_** change so just keep going. Always remember what Winston Churchill said, "If you're going through hell, keep going." **

**Let's see what the girls are up to today, shall we? And this is for my bro, ScorpioP, who never fails to delight me. And yeah, yeah, ScorP, I know I owe you another scene.**

* * *

Rachel was standing next to her car waiting for Quinn, but Mercedes beat her there.

"We need to talk."

"About what exactly, Mercedes?"

"Your attitude."

"_My_ attitude?"

"Am I mumbling?"

"No. I'm just astonished that you'd wish to address my attitude rather than your own…or actually, perhaps, I shouldn't be surprised at all."

"What's gotten into you? You all up and friends with the popular crowd now so you're throwing attitude to the little people?"

"How about an alternative description of the situation? I have friends now, which as you know is strange for me because my social landscape has been something akin to the Antarctic for as long as I can remember. Perhaps having friends has given me the confidence to no longer accommodate others' petty jealousies and sniping at me, as I've done for years."

"But why me?"

"Why you _what_ exactly?"

"Why are you picking on me?"

Rachel barked out a laugh of disbelief. "Did you actually hear what you just said? Tell me this, Mercedes. Why has everyone, including you, been picking on me since first grade? Tell me that! NOW!"

Mercedes lowered her eyes and didn't answer. Rachel could see the girl was getting emotional somehow—and her sixth sense gave her a mixed message—this could go anger or contrition and it was 50/50.

Rachel decided to push for anger. "I see. You can't answer me. But _you _can pick on me and slam me and berate me—_you_ can slap me around for years but the first time I thump you even once and pretty gently, by the way, you act like a toddler who dropped her lollipop on the ground."

Mercedes looked up at her and Rachel didn't see anger in her eyes, just tears. Her voice was very quiet, "I just don't want to end up in Lima, Rachel."

Rachel took a deep breath and said softly, "Then don't."

The girl's answering chuckle sounded forced and bitter, "That sounds so easy when you say it but girl, you know what? I talk a big game and all that but…I…sometimes I think Glee club's my one chance to be a star, you feel me? And then it's all going to be a dream I sorta useta have and it's going to be over. And I'll be here. Forever. So it just…I'll be…

Mercedes dashed the tears out of her eyes with her hands, "I'm trying to be real with you, okay? It…_burns _me when I don't get things now while I can when I know you'll always get to have them for reals someday in New York."

Rachel's eyes softened and she paused for a while before saying, "Did I just detect a vote of confidence in my talent?"

Mercedes smiled and shook her head, as Rachel had known she would, "That's serious up all you heard? A compliment, Rach?"

"Naturally. You're dealing with Rachel Berry. Give me your hand, Mercedes."

Mercedes extended her hand and Rachel took it as she said, "Listen to me. You're an incredibly talented singer and someone I feel honored to share the stage with. But no matter how much I share your belief that I can go places with my singing and my personal complete certainty I will? I'm still a sixteen year old girl just like you, sweetie. I want things now, too. Don't you know that? I'm just a kid. A driven and obnoxious kid, or so it's been beaten into me but still. Can't we please just stop this bickering?"

Mercedes squeezed her hand and nodded.

"I don't believe you're destined to be in Lima all your life. But that's your decision to make and then you have to start the hard work to make it happen. When I'm in New York, and I will be, if I have connections and I know I will, you will always, always have those connections through me. I will never, ever forget you and I will always help you if you have the drive to put yourself where you want to be."

Mercedes smiled at her. "Damn, you're making me feel all weepy."

Rachel swung their arms with their joined hands, "And who knows? You might be in Atlanta or LA in a couple of years churning out R&B hits and I'll be hitting and missing auditions left and right in New York and I'll be the one needing the help—goes both ways, understand?"

"Understood."

Rachel dropped her hand, "Let's just agree to disagree in Glee, occasionally, okay? With you and me and Kurt in that one room, it's remarkable there hasn't been bloodshed."

"No lie, right?"

Rachel patted her arm and said, "Despite this rapprochement—"

"English much?"

"Excuse me. Despite this establishment of harmonious relations, I won't tolerate disrespect in Glee anymore. I don't deserve it. And I will attempt to keep my mouth shut until people ask. And people asked today, Mercedes, in case you didn't notice."

Mercedes thought about the day and said, "Gotcha."

"Good. Now, excuse me but I need to go find Quinn. It's taking her an inordinate amount of time to get here."

Before Rachel could leave, Mercedes said, "What's up with you and that girl? I mean, I totally _know_ what's going on but wanna share?"

Rachel tapped her nose with one index finger, then pointed it at Mercedes, "You don't know anything and I wasn't born yesterday."

* * *

Rachel had crossed halfway through the parking lot when she saw Quinn, walking toward her. Santana and Brittany were flanking her and slowing their pace to hers.

When they met, Rachel said, "Thank goodness! It was taking you so long, I was worried something was wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, short stack. We saw you talking with Chocolate so we held up. Just know I was ready to come beat her ass down if things got rough."

"Santana, you know that Mercedes isn't violent."

Santana lifted a hand, "Oh please. Lemme touch that girl's weave and you'd see different."

Brittany offered, "Like right, right? If someone touched your weave, San, I'd be off the chain even before you."

Quinn and Rachel stifled laughter but Santana ignored them and said, "Totes, Britts. You're a badass dog with sharp-ass teeth and a spiked leather collar when _you're_ mad. But that's got me thinking that should be the 12th Commandment at WMHS. Thou shalt not touch another's weave."

"I'm fairly sure that hell is gaping for you now, Santana."

"Oh yeah, hobby? Well, I'll save ya a seat next to me. Oh sorry. Forgots. Jews don't have hell, do they?"

"No."

"Really?" Brittany asked.

"No, Brittany. The Jewish faith has a different view of the afterlife than the Christian faith."

"For real?" There was a long pause before she said, "Then I totally want to be a Jew and San has to be one, too, okay?"

Quinn just stood on her crutches and watched with rapt interest. It wasn't theater, but it was damned close.

Santana stared and said, "Wha wha?"

"San? You're always saying you're going to hell for stuff and telling me I'm going to heaven but I have to go everywhere with you so maybe? I mean, we love Father Andrew and our church and I know it would totally suck to leave him but maybe we should convert, okay?"

Santana glared at Rachel and said in a low, threatening tone, "Hello? You? Jew. Me? Catholic. Like forever? Fix this, midge, or I'll fix you. For reals."

Even as she heard the words, Rachel felt a sense of something that felt like her spirit was being blistered with joy, knowing that Santana would never hurt her, actually liked her, would always protect her and it made her heart flutter in her chest.

She waved her hand dismissively, "Brittany, don't listen to Santana. I almost never do, frankly. You're both wonderful people and I'm quite sure you will always end up in the same place not only in this life but in the next."

Brittany blinked and her eyes welled with tears. "Really?"

"Really."

"Thanks Rach. It's been worrying me for like forever."

Santana's mouth dropped open before she said, "Why didn't you tell me that, baby?"

"San, that would be super mean to talk about if I'm going to heaven and you're going to hell, right?"

"Well, yeah…I guess."

"Rachel?"

"Brittany?"

"Do cats go to heaven?"

Quinn and Santana shot pointed glances to Rachel.

She took the cue. "Absolutely."

"Can my cat Lord Tubbington eat fondue in heaven? San says it's bad for him."

"Lord Tubbington can eat fondue all day long in heaven but here? No. It's not good for him."

"That's what San's dad says."

"He's right, I think, Brittany."

"Cool. Lord Tubs is going to be super mad about that but a mad cat can get glad in the same room. That's what my mom always says—if you're mad or sad you can get always get glad in the same room."

"That's very wise advice, Brittany."

"Thanks, Rach. I think so, too. But I'm not sure it works the same way if Lord Tubbington's pissed because that doesn't rhyme."

* * *

Quinn kept a hand on Rachel's thigh as they drove.

"Wanna tell me what you and 'Cedes were up to?"

"Same old stuff. We made peace to a degree."

"I hope you bargained for blood."

"I bargained to agree we'd have our differences but that we should do our best not to bicker in Glee. And other stuff. Private stuff."

"You know what I'm finding out? Something really new that I like about us?"

"What?"

"When you say private, it doesn't scare me. Private in my family and just…well, generally has always meant something or someone was about to hurt me."

Rachel patted Quinn's hand. "If it were about you, baby, it wouldn't be private. It would be us and we'd talk."

"I'm not used to this, Rachel."

"What?"

Quinn snorted, "I don't know. In relationships? Rationality?"

"Please mark this down in your calendar because I'm going to. You just suggested I was rational."

Quinn smiled, "I know, right? Ask what songs we should sing at Regionals and—"

"Exactly. It was nice-ta-know-ya, rationality."

"Exactly. I'm starving. Wanna go to the Thai place?"

"Is this a date?"

"No. I mean, well it can be pre-date since I'm supposed to over-awe you with my massive date-ness on Friday."

"Right. I can only wonder at the spectacle but I'm hungry too. Kicking ass gives you an appetite."

"How well I know that," Quinn replied as she texted her mother even as she said, "That's why half the Cheerios have eating disorders."

"Sad that," Rachel said as she texted her dad.

"True dat, as they say."

They both got messages from their parents so pleasant but so nearly at the same time that they suspected something was up.

"We're probably in deep…"

"Shit—I know we don't usually curse or much, that is, but oh well. Still want to get some Thai?"

"Yep."

* * *

And sure enough, when they'd made a quick snack of spring rolls and curry soup, Rachel pulled her car into Quinn's driveway right behind her Daddy's Landcruiser.

"Quinn. Are you feeling an ambush?"

"Totally."

"Chin up. Star face. You know your lines. They need you—you don't need them and everything's coming up roses."

"Excuse my language, Rach, but what in the fuck are you talking about?"

"Oh sorry. Audition pre-talk."

Quinn sighed but rolled her eyes as she looked at Rachel. "It would probably be impossible for me to express how much I love you right now."

"I know that, as we're both fully clothed which precludes that possibility."

Quinn blushed even as she swatted Rachel's shoulder, "Don't DO that. Not before a meeting with the parentals."

"I was teasing you."

"Consider me teased."

Rachel stared deeply into Quinn's eyes and took her hand, "Believe me, I enjoy teasing but I intend to do the pleasing as well. Mark my words. Note to your calendar? Rachel can be rational and has stated her desire to please me sexually."

Quinn's blush deepened, "Not helping. Not that I'm not…thrilled but not helping."

"Let's go in. What can they do? They like us together."

"It's going to be the talk."

"The talk?"

"Sex talk."

"I have next to no experience with that with my parents. My daddy, as a doctor and a man with sisters, has talked me through the whole menstruation thing and getting my first bra thing. But sex? They've alluded to sex and have actually given me condoms just in case, which appalled me but there you go."

Quinn's laugh was bitter, "My mom just said 'don't.' See how that worked out? Whatever. Let's go enjoy the show."

"I don't have popcorn."

"Do you want popcorn, Rachel?"

"I want popcorn like I want air, occasionally."

"Good to know."

* * *

As they walked into Quinn's home, Rachel said with a feigned complete lack of concern. "Hi, Judy! Hi Daddy, Dad. What's up?"

They were seated in the front room and Rachel helped Quinn elevate her leg before anyone answered.

"We thought we should have a family meeting."

"I know Daddy's shift is third tonight but is this serious enough that Dad has to take off work?"

"I have time, Rachel, as you know and I'm the boss so yes."

"What's so serious?"

"You and Quinn."

"And that's so serious you have to take off work because…?"

"Your relationship has changed—as we all know."

And Quinn watched as Rachel pulled her chin up, smiled her star face. She knew her lines. They needed her—she didn't need them. Everything was coming up roses. The girl was a pro.

"Yes, we've changed the parameters of our relationship. What is your concern with that fact and more to the point which I believe is going to be the actual point of this conversation, what are your new edicts regarding our spending time together?"

"Actually," Jacob said, "Judy completely changed our minds about what we came to the table with today."

Quinn sighed, loudly.

Eric continued, "We understand that there's going to be a bit of a double standard with a same-sex female couple than a hetero couple or even a gay male couple for some obvious health reasons, okay?"

Both girls nodded.

Jacob smiled at them and said, "We came here with all sorts of conditions but Judy talked us into something that we all think might be right for both of you. She said you'd lived your false and contentious relationship so publicly and incredibly sadly for so many years that she felt it would be wrong to try to keep you from having a real and private relationship."

Quinn immediately began to cry and Rachel put one hand on her arm.

Judy said, "You can close your doors in our homes. We know you're friends and friends listen to music, do homework together, watch movies and have their sleepovers. But you need to know neither I nor your fathers believe you're ready for sexual intimacy."

Rachel dipped her chin, "On that point, Quinn and I completely agree."

Quinn nodded and sniffed, "Thank you, mommy. And thanks Dad and Daddy."

The electricity in the room immediately changed.

Quinn looked at her mother and then at Rachel's parents. "What? Don't you think I need fathers?"

Judy didn't say a word but smiled as Jacob and Eric looked at her very seriously. Eric said, "I know I can totally speak for my husband. Consider those positions taken. No matter what."

Rachel knew how to break a dramatic moment. "I'm still hungry."

"Baby girl—what do you want?"

"More Thai. Quinn teased me with appetizers earlier."

Quinn felt her ears burning about the word tease, "You didn't want to ruin dinner."

"You're a chintzy date."

"We agreed it wasn't a date, Rachel. And you'll regret that, believe me."

"No I won't."

"You will!"

"I won't!"

Judy rolled her eyes at Jacob and Eric, "Young love?"

"Def."

"Shut up daddy. And I can't say shut up to you Judy because that would be impolite but please recuse yourself from this conversation if at all possible."

"I will Rachel. I apologize."

"Apologies are unnecessary. I believe Quinn and I will go downstairs and attempt to digest what's just happened. And stop teasing us!"

"Rachel?"

"Judy?"

"Wouldn't you tease you in our position?"

"That is completely beside the point!" Rachel said as she stormed downstairs.

Quinn said, "Thanks, mom—diva storm out—that was perfect. Right dads?"

They both nodded but Jacob said, "Perfection."

* * *

Brittany was very nakedly wrapped around a very naked Santana at that moment in Brittany's bed. They'd had full closed-door privileges since they'd been three.

"San?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I be sorta serious for a minute?"

San raised her head. When Brittany wanted to 'talk' talk, it was important. "Always, baby."

"You know I'm pretty much going to Juilliard, right?"

"Of course."

"Are you going to be with me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I get scared because we try to never talk about it but then I think I'll be there and where are you going to be?"

"I'm only applying to schools in NYC, baby. Of course. You're my…"

"My what? What am I to you, San?"

"We're…Britts's? We're too young to talk about what we are, baby. But believe me I'll follow you. When you're at Juilliard, even if I don't get into school there and have to get a job at Starbucks or some shit to live in New York and live in some ghetto, I'll be there. I'll always be there."

"I don't want that for you, San. I want you to be happy."

"Are you kidding me? There's no happy for me without my baby, Britts."

"I…hope this won't weird you out? But I sometimes feel like—and it's okay if you don't feel the same? And we can pretend like I didn't say this, please, please, please if it does weird you out? Sometimes it feels like we're married sorta."

Santana pushed a lock of Brittany's hair behind her ear. "I've been your wife since the minute I met you when we were three and if that weirds you out you can please pretend I didn't say it right back?"

Santana felt her heart doing something she'd never felt as Brittany stared at her.

"I googled it, San. We have to be eighteen to get married but will you marry me?"

"I will."

"I'm totally sorry I don't have a ring."

"Can I be corny?

"Yes."

"You have a ring around my heart and my life and nothing…._nothing_ could ever change that."

"So we're sort of engaged in secret like forever?"

"Totally."

"San?"

"Britts?"

"Is this, like, really real life?"

Santana kissed her gently, "Totally."

**A/N Super short today, peeps, because I have stuff going on but the story continues…thanks for your reading and your reviews. They really mean a lot to me.**


	35. Chapter 35

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**A/N: Thank you, everyone, as always for your reading and reviews. I've had a bit of a rough week so here's some Faberry and some Fabray!**

* * *

When Quinn joined Rachel on the couch downstairs, she asked, "Still mad?"

"I wasn't really all that mad."

"I thought not. You just called time out on yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"That's how I think of your diva storm outs. Calling time out on yourself."

Rachel's posture stiffened, "I resent that! I am not a child! By removing myself from the room I'm making a point that someone's position or attitude toward me is completely untenable, one I expect to be respected."

It took everything Quinn could do not to laugh, but she took Rachel's hand instead and said. "And that's how it comes off, sweetheart. I just know you a little better than most people."

Rachel's face was a mask of worry. "Are you sure?"

"About what?"

"Do you think people think I'm being childish?"

Quinn looked into Rachel's soft brown eyes, "I love you, Rachel, so I'll be honest with you. Occasionally, sweetheart, yes. Your storm outs are childish."

Rachel sighed and her face was so sad that Quinn wanted to kiss every worry away but she waited until the girl said, "That's disconcerting to hear."

"I can imagine it would be and it doesn't mean you need to stop them sweetie, if they help, but when you do them so often, they lose impact. Look at me, okay?"

Rachel looked into the girl's eyes and Quinn dropped her face into the sardonic, cool and slightly sinister visage Rachel knew so well. She raised one eyebrow and her voice was cold, "Does this look familiar to you, Rachel."

"Completely."

"It almost loses its power because it's so familiar, doesn't it?"

Rachel shook her head. "No. Never. It always scares me. Please stop."

Quinn instantly pulled Rachel into a hug. "Honey, I wasn't trying to scare you. I'm sorry. And I'd completely miss it if you didn't storm out of the room occasionally. I love that about you."

"But it makes me look like a baby."

"It makes you _you_, angel, and I wouldn't have you any other way."

"My fathers have suggested that they find my storm outs very therapeutic for us as a family."

"Good. So let's keep them."

Rachel huffed then said into Quinn's neck, "Can we make out now?"

Quinn laughed and pulled away from Rachel, "We can kiss now."

Rachel saw something very different in Quinn's eyes and said, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Rach. It's just—we already talked about our limits, right? Nothing's wrong."

Rachel cupped Quinn's cheek with her hand, "Tell me."

"It's nothing."

"No. It's not. Tell me."

Quinn looked at the couch and then picked at nothing on her skirt before saying, "Alright. I've been really working hard on my homework for therapy, okay? Because I really want to get better. And I'm trying to understand or maybe just get—my thoughts and my feelings and my actions and how they're all mixed up together? And just really looking at it and writing it down and seeing it? It's sort of freaking me out a little, okay?"

Rachel caressed Quinn's face gently before taking her hand. "I understand. Do you want to explain more to me?"

Quinn turned to the wall and Rachel could almost feel a wave of anxiety and uncertainty coming from the other girl. She held her hand and tightened her grip and Quinn finally faced her.

"Please take this the right way? Not the wrong way, please?"

Rachel nodded.

"I want you—I mean, God, how I want you. I want to have sex with you right now. You can't know how much I want that. But I can't, Rachel. And I know I said you could talk sexy to me any time and, really? When you say things that are so hot they make me sweat I completely love it and I want that but I don't think I'm ready for it. I don't think I'm ready for your even saying that sort of stuff to me."

"Oh…_wow_. I was just…I thought it was…I am _so_sorry, Quinn."

"No, PLEASE. It's not your fault. It's not even my fault. It's just me—Quinn at this moment Quinn. What it makes me think? Can I be honest?"

"Of course."

"It makes me _feel _aroused, okay? And that's a first for me, Rachel. I've never felt that way before and it makes me happy to feel like you desire me and that I desire you. But right now? My _thoughts_ are that I'm bad and dirty to feel that way. And it's not because we're both girls. I swear it's not. It's just the fact of sex—that's how I was raised and I totally know intellectually it's not true, okay? But that's the first place my mind goes and even though I definitely am aroused by the way you talk and what we've been doing, I also feel a lot—and I mean _a lot _of anxiety and a little fear about it. And if I hadn't started doing this therapy homework, I know I couldn't have understood that what I was thinking and feeling and doing were a little or maybe a lot jumbled up right now—not on the same page at all. I'm not ready, Rachel. I'm so sorry but I'm really just not."

Rachel nodded, swallowed and her voice was thick with sadness, "Do you want…or maybe need to go back to just being friends because I'm okay if you need—"

"NO! I completely want to be your girlfriend, Rachel. I just need…I need…"

"What do you need, baby?"

Quinn's lips trembled before she said, "Tenderness. Gentleness. Kissing that means that just kissing me is enough for you and even if you want more that you don't need more right now and that I'm not some epic fail because I can't give you more."

Rachel smiled at her, "Really? I can give you that. Happily."

"But you shouldn't have to settle for that if that's not what you want, Rach."

"You have to be kidding me. The most beautiful amazing girl I've ever known will let me kiss her? I'm the luckiest person on Earth. And I feel really honored you felt comfortable enough to tell me that. I know we've been moving too fast and that's mostly my fault. I don't have any fiber of my being geared toward not going just as fast as I can for anything I want. You know that right?"

Quinn nodded.

"Let it be a testament to my love for you that I'm happy to go slow. It goes against everything in me, Quinn, but you're worth it."

She leaned forward and gave Quinn a long but completely tender kiss.

As she pulled away, Quinn said, "That was fantastic but I wasn't, exactly, saying we couldn't…well, couldn't touch tongues."

"Oh, sorry. Okay. Good to know. I understand. You want 'Hello, tongue, I love you'—not my attempting to have sex with your mouth?"

"Exactly."

"Let's give that a try."

They kissed again and when they parted Quinn said, "That was perfect."

"Hey! You took that word out of my mouth—or maybe off my tongue."

Quinn looked deeply unsure as she asked, "Really?"

"Really. I'm completely overjoyed."

"I love you, Rachel."

"I love you, baby."

Quinn laughed, "And we even have a closed door policy!"

"For chaste kissing!"

"We don't have to tell them that—let's let them worry."

"About all the wild donkey kong sex we're having?"

"You actually just said that? Honestly? You and Puckerman need to be separated."

"You called him Noah earlier."

"That's like for High Holy days or something."

"Which aren't now, by the way."

"Whatever. I'm Episcopalian."

* * *

They heard the door open and Judy call down in a very bright and polite tone, "Girls? Could you join us please?"

Rachel looked at Quinn, "The food can't be here yet."

Quinn looked startled, "_No_. That was ultra polite, yet strained. That's WASP-speak for something the fuck's going down."

They moved as quickly as Quinn could up the stairs and found Antoinette Fabray standing in the foyer.

Rachel knew Quinn's sister only vaguely because she was six years older than they were and they'd barely ever seen each other. She was flawlessly dressed, had the same hair and eyes but was taller and thinner than Quinn. And although attractive she was not remotely as pretty as Quinn.

"Hi Toni."

"I prefer to be called Antoinette now, Quinnie."

"I prefer to be called Quinn now, Antoinette. And I agree—the name suits you—for historical reasons, if for nothing else."

"Meow, kitten."

"Kitten? You're out of the loop, princess. Full grown cat, believe me."

"Oh that's right, you've had your own kitten, haven't you?"

Jacob had never wanted to hit a person more in his life but Judy interrupted that thought with, "Why are you here, Antoinette?"

"Can't a daughter visit her family, Mother?"

"Of course," Judy said, "Just as a daughter can return phone calls, emails, letters and texts but that hasn't occurred to you or from you since the divorce, has it?"

"Time's change. I'm here now. Who exactly _are_ these other people, again?"

Rachel felt a sense of horrified shame for what Quinn and Judy must be feeling with this…_relative_ being so rude in their home and she could see in her fathers' faces a similar sense of incredible discomfort.

Judy squared her jaw, "These people, Antoinette, are Dr. Eric Berry, his husband Jacob, and their daughter Rachel. They are deeply valued friends of our family."

Antoinette seemed to be stifling a laugh as she said, "_Our_ family?"

"Our family. Me and Quinn."

"Oh? Is that right? _I'm _not family?"

"Of course you are but we can talk about that privately, surely."

Antoinette scoffed, "Why not all out in the open, Mother, since they're your new BFFs?"

"Excuse me, Eric, Jacob and Rachel for your having to be party to such a personal discussion." She turned to her elder daughter, "You are my daughter, always. Your father is my family only in the sense he is the father of my children. You have spurned every advance I've made toward you and you have completely disregarded your sister's attempts at communication."

"Like that matters? Who helped throw her out of the house, Mother?"

"I know that, thank you. And you have no idea how I've suffered for it and repented for it. But look where Quinn is now? Loved and cherished and housed and fed and I am her mother again, as I neglected to be when she needed me most."

"Oh please. You think _she _needed_ your _help, Mother? _Look_ at her—she could have easily supported herself even at fifteen—in the most obvious way available. She's nearly too perfect by half."

Rachel was so shocked by this that she blinked before saying what her fathers were thinking, "Are you even human?"

Antoinette looked Rachel up and down and sneered from her considerable height, "Are you?"

And then Eric just snapped. "Oh hell no! Judy? You know for a fact I'd never put a finger on any girl and especially one of yours but I promise you I'll put this girl's triflin' ass out of this house if she doesn't show some respect right quick up in here. She's just disrespected you, my baby Quinn and my baby girl and that's three for three, _Antoinette._ Dial it way down, sister, or I'll dial you right out of this house. That's a promise."

"And I'll be equally happy to," Jacob added. "I may be small but I am a man and I promise you I could and would when you insult my daughters and my friend."

Antoinette was actually entirely intimidated but did the Fabray bluff, "Who gives you people that right?"

Judy barked, "_I_ give them that right, Antoinette. Compose yourself or get out."

Antoinette looked at the angry faces surrounding her and something about her changed. Something Quinn knew and didn't like. She glanced at Judy, who only slightly nodded with the same understanding. This was a reconnaissance mission for daddy.

"I apologize. We've had a tough time lately on the family front and I've obviously just hit all the wrong notes in our introduction. I'm Antoinette Fabray. I truly apologize. Please let me just visit and catch up. Were you just about to have dinner?"

"Yes. Thai."

"Great!"

"It's vegan thai, Ton-Antoinette."

The girl laughed, "Why?"

Quinn answered, "Because Rach is vegan and we respect her dietary preferences."

"Why bother? Get what she wants. Get what you want. It's not like she doesn't drive by McDonalds every day."

"She doesn't have to drive by McDonalds in our home, Antoinette," Judy said.

"Because?"

"We want her to be comfortable."

"Oh, wow. There's a new comfort kick in the Fabray house?" Antoinette snarked at Judy.

"Astonishing, right? If you want discomfort, visit your father."

* * *

After the food arrived and as the dinner went on, there were different thoughts flying around the table.

Judy was deeply wounded to realize, yet again, her elder daughter was someone she could barely recognize and felt a deep sense of guilt for what she must have done…to have helped create such an angry person. It was as if the young woman weren't even real. She was volatile, snarky and bitter, and Judy had seen all of that in Quinn. But Quinn had always had love, sadness and fear and need in her eyes and Judy saw none of those emotions in her elder daughter's. There was nothing there but emptiness and maybe that wasn't, after all, entirely her fault. Maybe that was something that was genetic or something no one but God could have changed.

Quinn felt deeply embarrassed.

Rachel felt furious.

Eric felt furious.

Jacob felt deeply saddened looking at a human with so much potential, just like her sister, who used it for nothing but ill.

"So, Rachel? Of course I do know who you are. You're super Gleek, which has to be sort of a buzz-kill in high school? How come you and my pop-star sister are friends?"

Rachel lowered her fork and looked at Quinn.

Quinn said, "Because I'm a lesbian, Antoinette, and Rachel is my girlfriend. Clear enough for you?"

"Crystal," Antoinette said as she put a forkful of noodles in her mouth, "This dish is so much more delicious than I could have ever imagined."

"Great, Toni. Tell my sperm donor that I won't even call a father that I'm gay. Feel free. What can he do?"

"Cut you off?"

"From what? Mom got my college fund in the divorce and he doesn't pay child support. I'm emancipated."

"But he pays your health insurance, baby-doll."

"Okay." Jacob said, "Easy as pie. Eric and I will happily pay it from now on. My husband and daughter and Quinn and Judy could tell you it's completely out of character for me to say something like this, but your father can happily fuck off, Antoinette."

Neither Eric nor Rachel had ever heard Jacob say 'fuck off' but it seemed to have even greater resonance with the Fabray women.

Jacob sipped his wine and asked, "Are we clear?"

She didn't answer him, "Dad's gonna love it, Quinnie."

"Tell him unless he plans to kill me, nothing's changing."

"That's cool. But killing you? Nah. _He_ wouldn't kill you. Maybe you'll just die because you're a sinner. Whatever. Who knows what'll happen, right?"

Eric grabbed his cell phone and speed-dialed a number. "I don't even care, Judy. I take care of my girls."

He waited for only a few seconds.

"Joe-Bob! Ssup? Eating?"

"Me too? Whassit with you?"

"Man? I got vegan again tonight. What you got? Baby-back ribs? You're killin' me! But seriously? How easy is it to get a TPO?"

A short pause. "No—not Rachel. You know what I'd do to anyone about my baby. It's for the Fabrays.

A long pause.

"Yeah. Russell. No secret there, right?"

A long pause.

"And I think Quinn might need one against her sister too. She made an implied threat in my presence not 30 seconds ago."

A longer pause.

"I think Quinn will vouch for it." He looked at Quinn and she nodded.

"Fine. Call me in the morning and go to hog heaven—because I'm in veggie hell."

Eric clipped off his phone and said, "Yeah, that was Joseph Robert Evans, our sheriff. I know you haven't said enough for a temporary protective order but keep it up? He said anytime we want we can go to the clerk of court and get the paperwork started and you'd better believe Joe Bob will make sure it gets fast tracked to the judge against you and your father, Antoinette. He was my best man at my wedding. So from now on? Talk nice or talk to us in court."

"What is it with gays and drama? Please. My sister's not worth threatening."

Rachel shook her head fiercely at that insult and said, "Why? Because she's so much prettier than you are?"

"She is prettier. I'll give her that. Always has been. But she's already had a child out of wedlock and now she's gay—what's next? What could top those two? Tell me that, Quinnie?"

"What could top your being a soulless bitch, Toni?"

"Oh I don't know. Being a virgin and a heterosexual comes to mind?"

"If I were playing your game, I'd say you were virgin and a heterosexual because nobody of either sex wants you when I got 'em lining up. But let's not pretend you're a virgin because I know for a fact you're not."

"Quinn! That's enough," Judy said, "And that's it, Antoinette. You're my daughter and I love you? And I will always answer your calls or come to your aid if you need me but you cannot treat your sister this way. Get out."

The girl didn't listen, "Do you know how disappointed our father is in you, Quinn, and how much it will cut him to know you're living like this?"

"Cut him? As in cutting me out of his life—which he's already done? And living how? Happily?"

"In sin?"

"Oh for God's sake. What a joke. I've slept with exactly one boy exactly once. And yes it was a mistake and yes I got pregnant. But I happen to know you're basically a complete frat whore at OSU. You have to drink half pints of vodka wrapped in paper bags before you have the guts to go into sorority parties because they all know you're a slut and feel free to call you on it. Please don't go there with me."

"Did that bitch Anne Armstrong call you? Who told you that?"

Quinn's eyes were gleefully malicious, "You just did, dumbass."

"You're a bitch!"

"And you're a slut!"

Antoinette jumped up and Eric leapt to his feet, "Think twice, little girl."

Antoinette looked at Quinn as if she wanted to kill her, "You've always gotten everything."

"Oh, right. Teenage pregnancy and homelessness. My cup runneth over, Toni."

"You know what I mean."

Quinn stared at her for a long few moments. "You mean something so dumb and so simple as you think I'm prettier than you are, don't you?"

"It's not dumb—it's all that matters!"

"Toni—you're gorgeous but what's not pretty about you isn't physical."

"How would you know?"

"Hello? I'm in therapy?"

"Well finally! To get rid of this fucking Glee club and all the gay?"

"The Glee and the gay's totally staying. I'm getting rid of the hating. Myself mostly. That's the difference between us, Toni—I hate and blame myself—you hate and blame everyone else."

"Whatever. You're kidding yourself, Quinnie—that shit never goes away!"

"Not at once. Of course not!"

"NOT EVER! You think talking to a doctor about your bullshit problems can make your life even more of a fairy tale than it's already been? Think again!"

"My life's a fairy tale? Are you kidding? I'd never think that."

"You never think! And you, Rachel?" Toni's eyes were full of malice, "You think Ms. Perfect here's going to keep you around for long? You're like gay training wheels. Once she gets the swing of riding that bike, baby, she'll take 'em off. Oh yeah, she'll want an upgrade soon."

All of the adults and Quinn were stunned into silence but Rachel wasn't. She pounded the table with both fists.

"Listen to me, Antoinette. Do you think that you just hurt my feelings? I've been hurt worse and by the very best for years and years. You're a fly buzzing in my ears. What you need to do is to get out of this house. What you also need is not only psychological help but psychiatric help, although the prognosis for treatment with people clearly exhibiting raging borderline personality disorder isn't that good. Get out of this house, _now._"

She stood, "I'm warning you, because I know that my fathers want to throw you out physically right now, as do I. However, because we are civilized as you are not, we'll just call the police and let them remove you. Your mother is no longer so intimidated by social pressure that she worries about making a scene if the situation warrants it, are you Judy?"

"Absolutely not. Leave, Antoinette. If you wish to see me or need me, you may always call me and we'll meet somewhere publicly. This is my home and Quinn's home. It is no longer yours."

Antoinette snorted, "Fine, one last question mom? Don't you feel sort of left out being all white and hetero in here?"

That was the last straw and it wasn't what Antoinette expected. Rachel burst into a gale of laughter, and then her fathers did, and Judy and Quinn, seeing their honest mirth, began to laugh as well.

Judy finally said, "Give your father whatever report you want—tell him I'm consorting with Black and Jewish homosexuals. Tell him Quinn's a lesbian. But if you really, really want maximum shock value? Tell him I'm happy."

"Fine. Nice to meet you."

Antoinette grabbed her bag and gave a diva storm out even Rachel was impressed with, including slamming door.

* * *

Judy said, "I don't know about you, but because we're WASPs, the way to handle this is to pretend it didn't just happen. Dessert anyone?"

Even as everyone laughed, it suddenly registered with Jacob and Eric that this was seriously going to be the way it was going to be dealt with. No discussion about what had just happened, no matter how seismic.

Rachel understood better than they did, "Perfect!"

"I bought vegan Tofutti ice cream sandwiches for everyone."

"I knew I felt a kindred spirit locked up in your inner carnivore, Judy!"

Judy smiled at Rachel, who understood and was making everything go away, as it needed to. For her and for Quinn, for the time being. And Eric and Jacob followed their daughter's lead.

They ate their ice cream sandwiches, which Judy deemed delicious and then Rachel said, "I feel the need to break out into song."

Quinn laughed, as did her fathers. Judy didn't quite get the joke. She looked at the others in the room and raised her eyebrows.

"No seriously, she wants to sing, Mom. You can't stop her. "

Judy looked at the others and realized this was a command and not a request.

"Okay, we have a docking station—"

"Yes, I know in this front room, which is perfect acoustically."

Rachel pulled her iPod from her bag, scrolled through it and planted it in the station.

"This is for all of you. It's like a palate cleanser after a hard day."

Rachel sat down before them and said, "This is for all of you. I'm sorry today was so difficult, Quinn and Judy? But tomorrow will be better. I know this—because I've lived through many difficult days, as have we all, I'm sure. But of course it's for you Quinn."

She started the song and sang.

_Over time, I've been building my castle of love_

_Just for two, though you never knew you were my reason_

_I've gone much too far, for you now to say_

_That I've got to throw my castle away_

_Over dreams, I have picked out a perfect 'come true'_

_Though you never knew it was of you I've been dreaming_

_The sandman has come from too far away_

_For you to say, "Come back some other day"_

_And though you don't believe that they do_

_They do come true, for did my dreams_

_Come true when I looked at you_

_And maybe too, if you would believe_

_You too might be overjoyed, over loved, over me_

_Over hearts, I have painfully turned every stone_

_Just to find, I had found what I've searched to discover_

_I've come much too far for me now to find_

_The love that I've sought can never be mine_

_And though you don't believe that they do_

_They do come true, for did my dreams_

_Come true when I looked at you_

_And maybe too, if you would believe_

_You too might be overjoyed, over loved, over me_

_And though the odds say improbable_

_What do they know for in romance_

_All true love needs is a chance_

_And maybe with a chance you will find_

_You too like I'm, overjoyed, over loved, over you_

_Over you_

_Over you_

Judy smiled at her and said, "I'll repeat the question. Are you human?"

"I'm completely musical theater, Judy. It's in the blood."

"Come here, child." Rachel moved forward and Judy hugged her, "You're perfect, Rachel. Any mother would know that."

"My mother—"

"Your mother is not me. I'd always keep you—I'd keep you like a bunny in a basket."

Immediately, Judy realized what she'd said and both she and Quinn winced. Judy said, "I didn't mean to imply that your mother—"

"No worries. I only have a birth mother; I've never had a real one but I know that's what you meant. Thank you."

Judy nodded and kissed the top of the girl's dark head and hugged her tightly.

**A/N Yes, I don't care what canon is about Quinn's sister or even her name. Although the name Antoinette is undeniably beautiful? It's a bitch to spell again and again-and just made me angrier at her. See how authors are?  
**

**The song? Stevie Wonder. Overjoyed. Imagine that there's some thing called you tube. Now add. com/watch?v=2pkqqs2x2kA**

**I had originally put this in the ending A/N but removed it as too personal but then thought whatever. The song was already there for Quinn a couple of days ago when I was writing but it's now also for my beloved dog who my bestie and I had to put down yesterday after sharing, well, I guess about 12 lovely years with him. We rescued him, a scrawny abused wreck, from a shelter at six months and he grew into a magnificent animal and was truly a perfect 'come true' for both of us. I know he had a wonderful and joyous life and he gave as good as he got. I love you, M. Happy trails, angel-boy.  
**


	36. Chapter 36

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**A/N: Thanks for your reading and for your reviews. Warning up for a lot of bad language and some vulgarity in this chapter. Actually, for full effect, the first song that Lauren sings, might be better listened to before if you're unfamilar with it. The link's at the end. ****And a quick note? I have ZERO idea why this site decided there were two chapters-only one (36) and I can tell that's enough-I don't like spamming readers. It gets boring.**  


* * *

At lunch the next day, after Quinn and Rachel's recounting of what had gone on the previous night, Santana responded dismissively, "You have got to be kidding me. Toni said that shit about being a virgin? Please." She lowered her voice and continued, "If you said hello anywhere near that girl's pussy, there'd be an echo like the Grand Canyon."

Puck barked out a laugh as Rachel sprayed her soy milk on the table.

"Damn, midge."

"Sorry Santana. I wasn't expecting that level of vulgarity."

"You will learn, young padawan," Puck said as he popped a very hefty piece of Rachel's vegan pizza into his mouth.

"That _was _sort of crude, San."

"Was I wrong, B?"

"Well, maybe not. Like at my sixth birthday party, Toni totally snuck into our room and said she needed a rubber or something and got one of my party balloons we hadn't blown up."

"A fucking balloon? See? At twelve? Already a whore and stupid to boot."

"I guess, kind of. Sorry, Q."

"No damage, believe me."

* * *

Finn was still smarting from his drubbing at nearly everyone's hands but the whole 'smart' thing was still elusive for him.

Puck was walking Rachel to class with his arm around her shoulder and as they approached each other, Finn said, "Wow. Didn't take you long, did it bro?"

Puck stared at him "For what? To walk my Jew to class?"

"To move in on her."

"I assure you, Finn, that Noah is walking me to class solely in order to assure that I'm not assailed by slushies, haters or simply people who can't buy a clue, like you."

"Right. That makes you, like, naïve, Rach."

"Really? What does that word mean, Finn?"

"What?"

"You used the word naïve. What does it mean?"

He obviously backpedaled in his mind but came up with, "Something you shouldn't be, Rach."

"Oh. I see. Let me translate. By allowing my friend Noah to walk me to class I'm displaying a lack of understanding, experience and judgement. Or to use another word, I'm credulous to the point that I need your protection?"

"Sort of."

"Your perspicacity never fails to astound me, Finn."

"What she said," Puck said as he gripped Rachel's shoulder and moved past Finn.

* * *

**Glee!  
**

"Okay, guys! Anyone else on the anger assignment? I gotta say, the breadth of emotion you guys showed really impressed me. I've gotta hand it to Santana for the idea. She knew what she was talking about!"

Will was earnest, which was Will, but Santana was actually pleased by the praise, which she didn't want to admit even facially as Rachel said, "I, too, thought the idea was an amazing one and I'd love to hear more from other members."

"I've got something, Mr. Schue."

"Great, Lauren! Let's hear it."

Lauren handed out the sheet music to the band and the Glee members then stepped firmly into Quinn's seated space, pulled her forward by her uniform and hissed in her ear. "This song is _completely_ for _you, _bitch,and if you repeat that, I'll end you and you know I can. Understood?"

Quinn nodded vigorously.

Lauren stepped away and said in her usual bored tone, "This is an old school song by Romeo Void. Their singer was another bad-ass big girl so whatever, right?"

The band started and Lauren sang from what seemed to Quinn to reach into the bottom of her own heart.

_She's got a face that shows that she knows_

_She's heard every line_

_Tenderly she talks on the phone_

_There's a way to walk that says_

_"Stay Away!" and a time_

_To go around the long way_

_A girl in trouble is a temporary thing_

_A girl in trouble is a temporary thing_

_There's a time when every girl learns, to use her head_

_Tears will be saved till they're better spent_

_There's no time for her to be afraid_

_So instead, she takes care of business_

_Keeps a cool head_

_A girl in trouble is a temporary thing_

_A girl in trouble is a temporary thing_

As the saxophone solo took over, Lauren still kept her eyes off Quinn and moved in time to the music, then finished.

_She's got a face that shows that she knows_

_She's heard every line_

_Tenderly she talks on the phone_

_There's a way to walk that says_

_"Stay Away!" and a time_

_To go around the long way_

_A girl in trouble is a temporary thing_

_A girl in trouble is a temporary thing_

_A girl in trouble is a temporary thing_

As everyone clapped, Lauren gave the briefest of nods to Quinn, which the girl returned with a small smile.

"Wow. That was really just…powerful, Lauren. I'm—just—I'm blown away!"

"Thanks, Mr. Schue."

"Me too, Lauren," Quinn said quietly.

Rachel piped up, "Lauren, while it's obviously not the grandstand solo one looks for—for competition, let's say?" At this, everyone inwardly or not so inwardly groaned. "I'd truly personally rather hear you sing that again than anything we do in competition."

Lauren looked like she'd been hit in the face with a cold codfish and she swallowed hard before saying, "Seriously?"

"Quite seriously. It was real. Amazingly poignant and brilliantly performed. I applaud you wholeheartedly."

Lauren wanted to murder Rachel daily but she truly respected her talent. The compliment only wanted to make her murder her slightly less but she felt very pleased. "Thanks, midget."

"_De nada_, as Santana would say, were she feeling civil, which is admittedly rare."

"Frodo, I swear to God, don't make me hurt you."

"As if, Santana."

"Short stack?"

"Santana?"

Rachel turned to her and Santana scowled at her but faced with those big brown eyes? Santana waved a hand, "Whatever. You'll see, hobby. Better watch out, _ese_."

"I'm not Mexican."

"Okay? Keep it up and you'll def feel some Spanglish after school—wait and see."

Rachel smiled with a complete lack of concern even as Finn frowned and said, "I have something, Mr. Schue."

Will didn't have any illusion that Finn's choice would go well but said, "Great!"

Finn handed out his music and the band began to play as he began to sing:

_Under my thumb_

_The girl who once had me down_

_Under my thumb_

_The girl who once pushed me around_

As soon as the girls realized what he was singing, every one of them except Quinn, who, couldn't, got up and danced and sang louder than he did.

_It's down to me_

_The difference in the clothes she wears_

_Down to me, the change has come,_

_She's under my thumb_

_Ain't it the truth babe?_

_Under my thumb_

_The squirmin' dog who's just had her day_

_Under my thumb_

_A girl who has just changed her ways_

_It's down to me, yes it is_

_The way she does just what she's told_

_Down to me, the change has come_

_She's under my thumb_

_Ah, ah, say it's alright_

_Under my thumb_

_A siamese cat of a girl_

_Under my thumb_

_She's the sweetest, hmmm, pet in the world_

_It's down to me_

_The way she talks when she's spoken to_

_Down to me, the change has come,_

_She's under my thumb_

_Ah, take it easy babe_

_Yeah_

_It's down to me, oh yeah_

_The way she talks when she's spoken to_

_Down to me, the change has come,_

_She's under my thumb_

_Yeah, it feels alright_

_Under my thumb_

_Her eyes are just kept to herself_

_Under my thumb, well I_

_I can still look at someone else_

_It's down to me, oh that's what I said_

_The way she talks when she's spoken to_

_Down to me, the change has come,_

_She's under my thumb_

_Say, it's alright._

_Say it's all..._

_Say it's all..._

_Take it easy babe_

_Take it easy babe_

_Feels alright_

_Take it, take it easy babe._

When the song was over, Will clapped Finn so hard on the shoulder the boy winced. He said in a strained voice, "As you can see from the girls' hearty participation, they really appreciated the irony in your song choice comparing women to animals and second class beings. Thanks for sharing, Finn!"

"Great! I'm glad. Thanks for the help, you guys—or girls!"

Sam, whose mouth was still sort of sore from his root canal, said, "Please excuse my language, Mr. Schue, but you're a complete asshole, Finn. I can't believe you just sang that."

"What? They liked it."

"Ya think? You're calling girls dogs and cats and pets and you think girls think that's funny? Any of these girls? They don't deserve that from you. They drowned you out, dumbass, because they weren't putting up with it."

Finn's face fell, "Really?"

Rachel said, "While it's certainly catchy, the misogyny in the song's hard to miss, Finn."

Finn raised his voice, "You know what? I'm sick of this! Fuck you, Rachel, and your words you know I don't know."

Will stepped forward but Puck leapt in front of him and put a gentle restraining hand on his chest. "Mr. Schue? Please? No."

He turned to Finn, "Lower your voice and don't go there bro. Explain to Finn what you mean, Rachel."

"I'll tell him," Quinn said, "You can't help yourself with your vocabulary, Rach." She turned to Finn and her voice was surprisingly gentle. "Maybe that was a good angry song for you? I respect that. It's a great song, actually. But like Sam said, it's very disrespectful to sing it to any woman you're angry with, Finn, and one of the rules of the exercise was that you weren't supposed to sing angry _at_ someone."

He glared at her.

"Come here, Finn."

He stepped forward with Puck accompanying him. "It's okay, Puck. He won't hurt me."

"Finn? Kneel down and let me tell you something?"

He knelt by her and she offered her arms to him and he hesitated, then hugged her as she wrapped her arms around his head and whispered in his ear. "Stop all this anger, honey. It doesn't help. We're never, ever going to be angry enough, are we?"

He immediately began to cry and Will stepped back and made a cut motion to everyone else and pointed to the door and they all left the room.

Puck and Rachel paused at the door and Quinn looked up at them and gave a slight smile and a jerk of her head that meant she was okay. Puck made a motion that meant they'd be just outside and she nodded.

When Finn lifted his head, he was thankful that no one else but Quinn was in the room, who had tears in her own eyes. He said, "I don't understand so much. I mean, but I want to, you know?"

She looked into his sincere eyes she'd once found so sweet. "Finn. I hurt you and I'm sorry and I'll never be sorry enough but—"

"But Rachel won't even talk to me."

"Let me ask you something and believe me when I say I'm not jealous, Finn. Or not for the reason you'd think. Does this all come down to Rachel?"

He looked at her as if knew he shouldn't half believe her. "Are you playing with me Quinn? I know you're smarter than me. I mean, like Brittany said, I have to know when I'm dumb and I know that you're not."

"I know you know I've played games for most of my life but I promise I'm not playing with you now. I'll be honest with you."

"I just wish she'd give me another chance, Quinn."

She ran her fingers through his hair very tenderly, "That won't happen, sweetie."

"Why?"

"Because she's in love with someone else who's completely and deeply in love with her, too."

"PUCK?"

"Shhh. No, Finn. Not Puck."

He rocked in place "Who?"

She looked at him and said, "Me."

* * *

Santana said, "Me and Britts are going to get our crap out of the locker room—if you need us text or just holla and I'll be back here with my brass knuckles."

Rachel's eyes widened, "Do you really have brass knuckles?"

"It's like you're five. I don't need them, hobby. I got fists of steel."

"She sort of does," Puck agreed, "She ever hit you? She's tiny but she punches like a guy."

Brittany shook her head, "If she hit ever Rach, I'd totally cry."

"Not that she doesn't need it hourly but I'm never hitting the hobbit, Britts," Santana said as she held out a pinkie to Brittany, who took it, "We'll be back—keep an ear out."

"Will do."

After a few more minutes went by, Rachel said, "I'm going in there. Noah."

"No deal. Hold up. Let your woman do her mojo."

"She was touching his head."

"But not his little head."

"Eww?"

"Well, okay. Granted? Serious up, if my woman was holding the Frankenhead, I'd kick up a little too."

"She's not my woman."

"She's _so_ your woman."

She glared at him and he met her gaze with nothing but affection. "Alright, Noah. It's true. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Are you kidding me! Think of the extra spank bank material I get out of that. I mean, I can do like fantasy football combos with girls but it's way better when I know it's really going on."

"I don't know why I associate with you."

"Because I'm your Jew and you love me and I love you and you've never had bros except for me and Britts."

She huffed. "While that may be true, Noah, seriously? You're objectifying—"

"Please. Get out of here, Berry. Tell me if you thought about Britts and Santana all hot and naked and lathered up in a shower, you wouldn't…"

"Just stop right there. Fine. Be that as it may, I keep my images of Brittany and Santana fully clothed, thank you."

"Seriously? Why? You're missing half the fun of being a semi-official dude, bro."

Rachel sighed and rested her head on Puck's arm. "I'm worried."

"She's okay and she knows we're out here."

"But I love her."

"I know you do. Me, too."

He knew he didn't even have to say why to her and that understanding was confirmed by her huffing and wrapping her arms around his waist.

* * *

Finn took a deep breath. And suddenly everything sort of made a weird kind of sense. "You're gay?"

She nodded.

"So you're not just pranking Rachel?"

"No. Not at all. I'm in love with her."

He thought about that for a few seconds, "So is that what—like—why—you've been so mean for so long—because you've been like mad or sad about it or something?"

She held up a hand. "Kind of? Sort of? I'm going to therapy to understand it, Finn. Only my family and S, B, and Rachel know that. And now you. I really don't mind telling you."

He nodded. And visibly settled, quieted down. "I'm glad, Quinn."

"What?"

"I'm glad. You've always been really mean but you've always seemed so sad."

She nodded at this. Evidently everyone could see through her, to one degree or another. "Are you going to tell everyone?"

"No. I won't tell anyone."

"Why?"

He looked at her and began to cry again but didn't make any movement to wipe his tears or his nose although she desperately wanted to.

"Because? Quinn?" He shook his head. "Hello? Like Brittany said it and she was RIGHT!"

He chuckled bitterly, "You just told me something I didn't fucking _know!_ Something I can actually _understand_. I understand. It's just been not understanding again and again and again and again that's made me so—whatever the fuck I keep seeming to be with _everybody_. I mean—damn, I didn't understand why my dad died. I didn't understand Kurt at all for a long-ass time. Or my mom sometimes and now my mom and Kurt and Burt sometimes. I so _way_ couldn't _understand_ you or especially Rachel. I just didn't know, you know?"

His eyes were streaming.

"I just knew it—I promise I felt it—I knew somewhere or somehow I wasn't _getting_ something and it made me so fucking mad and it was too fucking embarrassing to ask. Because what do you ask if you don't know what you don't know or even what the fuck _to _ask? I just need someone to tell me stuff I need to know. So now I fucking know at least this one thing! And even though you might think it maybe should, it doesn't make me mad at all. I just feel—like happy—like totally relieved or something. Like, finally! FINALLY! Someone finally told me one thing that helps at least some things make sense to me, you know? Something I couldn't ask because I was too stupid to know how to ask."

"You weren't stupid about this, Finn. I didn't understand it either. It was a complete face-palm when I realized it, believe me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I was totally surprised—and then things made so much more sense. So we're sort of on the same page, okay?" She wiped his eyes and nose very tenderly with the white sleeve of her winter uniform, "You have to remember, Finn? And I try to remind myself every night now, before I go to bed? We're growing up but we're still kids. It's okay to be confused and we're not finished products yet."

He smiled and said, "Still on the assembly line, huh?"

"Totally."

"You do know, don't you, this doesn't mean I'm going to change into wonder-boy from clueless asshole overnight, right?" He stared at her hard. "But it won't be for lack of trying, Quinn. Really. I swear."

"We're both trying. And you can always ask me anything, Finn Hudson. Or ask me things you don't even know how to ask. If you're honest and sincere with me, I will always tell you what I think and I will never, ever, _ever_ game you. You deserve to be happier than you are. And I'll never breathe a word of it to another person. I promise you that forever, okay? We owe that to each other, I think, after all we've been through together, don't you?"

He smiled, "Definitely. I'm sorry about the song today."

"It was how you were feeling."

"I don't think I really knew how I was feeling."

"Lots of times I don't either."

"Really?"

"Really. If you want, I'll get you a copy of the same workbook I'm using for my therapy—it's really easy to fill out and it helps you understand things better and I think it's really helping me already."

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely."

"That'd be awesome."

"Friends?"

"Always."

"But that means you ease up on Rachel and respect her, Finn. She's forgiving but it may take time."

"I will. I'm sorry. And thank you."

"Me too. And likewise. Now, Finn? We need to get out to my girlfriend and your bro before they storm in."

"That would suck in a way but it would still be sorta cool."

"Rachel's already too dramatic, Finn."

"Puck's a drama queen, too. I learned that, like, from Kurt."

Quinn smiled and bumped Finn's shoulder as she said stood, "That stays in the vault but I so agree."

As they left the room with swollen eyes, they found Rachel, Puck, Santana and Brittany waiting for them.

Santana was, naturally, the first to speak. "Capitan? Everything okay?"

"Yes."

Finn asked Santana with great hesitation, "Quinn and me are okay. Are we okay?"

Santana looked him over and said, "You should be talking to my hobby but you know what? I'll say this. You didn't hurt my baby. Good for you. Because otherwise you'd be in the E.R. And you didn't hurt Q? Good for you. Hobby? You okay?"

"If Quinn is, I am."

Finn immediately interjected, "I'm really sorry about the song, Rachel."

Rachel actually sort of wanted to claw him but something about Quinn's demeanor said to be gentle. "I accept your apology. No one knows better than I that sometimes emotions are better expressed in song."

"Still, it really sucked now that Sam explained it and you didn't deserve it."

"I didn't but life is like that. I've been on the receiving end of a lot I haven't deserved. It doesn't bother me as much as it might bother someone like, say, you."

That was a direct dig he understood but he accepted it. "You're right, Rachel. Sorry again."

Puck decided it was time to lighten up. He punched Finn in the shoulder gently, "Okay, cowboy. COD and some nachos up in my house, bro?"

Finn smiled and nodded.

Puck winked at the girls and said, "Let's not even ask these chicks. I know they don't wanna play."

"I know, right? The hottest girls in school are all playing for a better team."

Santana raised her fist, "Five for that, Hudson."

He knuckle bumped with her and said, "Thanks, Santana."

"Just keep it real and keep your ego between the ditches with Q and Frodo and we're golden. Britts, on the other hand?"

"You don't have to say anything about that because I'd like to keep both hands or my face or private parts or stuff. I understand the 11th commandment."

"Good to know. And this concludes a pretty sickening love-fest. Get going penis-positives. We penis-negatives gots places to go."

"Whoa. That's sorta hot."

"Noah!"

* * *

As they walked to the parking lot, Brittany put an arm around Rachel and they were whispering as Quinn and Santana walked behind them.

Santana said quietly, "You know what this means don't you?"

"What?"

"Them?"

"They're ridiculously cute?"

"That, too, but we gotta stay on the up and up because those two? Please? We don't act right? We get kicked to the curb for a submarine mechanic."

Quinn snickered. "Think so?"

"Know so. And that'd leave just me and you and though I've already admitted I'd sort of love to tap you just once, I'm engaged now, so that possibility's gone forever. I know that's gotta hit you hard."

Two seconds went by. "Wait. Now what? The fuck? You're engaged?"

"Yeah, me and Britts decided. We're serious up going to Massachusetts and getting married when we're eighteen. For some reason she's always wanted to see Boston—I thinks it's mostly because she totes likes baked beans and shit —so two birds, one stone, right?"

"No way."

"Way."

Quinn, who'd had enough emotion for a month in the last hour, instantly broke into tears, threw her crutches on the ground and pulled Santana into a hug. "That's fantastic!"

Brittany and Rachel heard the sound, turned and rushed toward them.

"What's wrong? San?"

"I told her about us—_us_ us."

Rachel looked perplexed and Brittany smiled as she said, "Oh Rach, I'm so sorry—we were so busy about that whole ballast problem with our sub I forgot to tell you. Me and San are getting married when we're eighteen."

Rachel did nothing by halves. She leapt into Brittany's arms and began to cry as well. "OH MY GOD!"

"Does that mean good, Rach?" Brittany said as she held a sobbing Rachel.

"Are you kidding? It's wonderful! We have to have food! We have to celebrate! Drink alcoholic beverages!" She thought about that for a second, "In moderation!"

Santana pried herself away from Quinn, "Short stack—it's two years away."

"Who cares? I'm calling my Dad right now. A party's best when impromptu."

"Are you serious?" Santana said. "We haven't even told our parents."

Rachel's face fell, "Oh. Will they not be supportive?"

"Of course they will. Our daddy and _papi_ will say what took you so long."

"Fantastic! Should we invite them?" Quinn shook her head very gently no at Rachel. Rachel took the clue. "Or how about this! It'll be a secret just between us and let's just let it be us for right now. I understand your parents should have their own special commemoration when you inform them of this joyful event."

Quinn smiled as Rachel phoned her father and they all watched her in something like shock as she said, "Dad? Are you busy? No? Good. You will never believe the news I've just received! Brittany and Santana have become engaged to marry when they turn eighteen and as you know most parents would say that's too young to make such a commitment but you've met them and you know it's completely destined to be so I was thinking it might be nice to have a tiny little dinner tonight in their honor because no one knows except for us which makes it that much more exciting and I'm thinking finger foods and then they can have some meat entrée and I'll eat whatever and you can cut the celebratory glass of wine in third with water like you do during Shabbos."

Santana asked Quinn, "Did she even breathe during that?"

"I don't think she had to."

"Wow. Great breath control. Comes in handy."

"What do you mean? For singing?"

"No. You'll find out."

"If that was sexual—"

"When isn't it?"

"I'm killing you one day."

"No you're not. You'd miss me, mi hermosa."

"I would. Te amo."

Santana sang, "Then she put her hand around my waist."

"We're SO going to burn them with Rihanna."

"To the ground."

And suddenly it occurred to Rachel as she rang off with her father, "Oh my goodness. Sorry. But my dad is absolutely and completely beside himself. More than me if you can believe it. There may be party hats and kazoos involved. I never know with him. But I didn't ask? Can you come over for your engagement party tonight?"

Santana looked at Brittany and Rachel's wildly excited faces and had to laugh. "We wouldn't miss it for the world. Would you, Q?"

"Only if Mom can come."

Rachel clapped her hands. "This will be EPIC!"

* * *

**A/N: I love both of these songs, especially Girl in Trouble. The video sucks but the song lives on for me. **

**Again, pretend there's something call You...tube...cut and paste**

_**Romeo Void: A Girl In Trouble **_

_**.com/watch?v=R_3qHLsZUws**_

_**Rolling Stones: Under My Thumb**_

**.com/watch?v=nYYTLJ8YHi4**

**A huge shout-out, with my dearest love and respect today to the fallen and still fighting men and women who keep me free to indulge in a hobby like fanfiction. Most of the people in the world aren't as lucky as I am because of them. Thank you.**


	37. Chapter 37

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**A/N: There is an uninvited guest in this chapter whose name was mentioned in Chapter 15. Warning up for an inexplicit and ****_very_**** short allusion to sex that wasn't strictly consensual.**

* * *

The party was set for 7:00 and Brittany and Santana squared it with their parents by telling them that there was something Jewish going on with Rachel and they'd be home by 10:30 at the latest. Neither pair of parents believed them for a second but they gave their permission.

Although both Santana and Brittany were excited, neither of them expected much because, after all, Rachel and her dad hadn't had much time to do anything except maybe make or buy food, which would have been cool enough for both of them.

When they walked in the door they were met by Eric, Jacob, Rachel, Quinn and Judy and led down the stairs to the family/entertainment room, where they both immediately realized they'd underestimated the power of gay.

There were three enormous banners reading _Mazel Tov!, Congratulations! Felicidades!_

There was a spinning disco ball. There were hot and cold appetizers on a cloth-covered table, punch and soft music playing in the background.

Santana was completely stunned but she was the first to speak, as usual. "No. Like seriously. You have a disco ball?"

"Hello?" Jacob said as he enveloped her in a hug, "We're gay. As are you evidently. Mazel Tov!"

"Thank you, Jake."

He pulled away from her to hug Brittany and said, "You won't believe your cake, Brittany! I can't wait for you to see it!"

"There's a cake?"

"Of course there is! After we have appetizers and you dance with me, we'll have our dinner and then the cake."

"Wow! It's like a real party."

"Well, it's small but it's a party!"

"It's perfect," Santana said.

As they all made the rest of their greetings and congratulations, Santana looked at her Brittany, her Quinn and at her mom and at her hobbit and her dads and then looked up at the spinning disco ball. Life was spinning…and she felt tears sting her eyes and closed them. Spinning was good.

* * *

They'd had a few glasses of punch, eaten appetizers and made everyone laugh with their dancing, with which Jacob occasionally heartily took part. But he was thinking, as the consummate party planner he was, that it was nearing the time to put his entrees in the oven for the thirty minutes it would take to cook them.

That's when they heard the doorbell ring.

"Anyone expecting anyone?" Jacob said.

They all shook their heads no.

"Then I'll get it," Eric said.

When he opened the door, he found a tiny, very beautifully dressed woman he knew to be in her 70s, holding her clutch purse in one hand and a cane in the other.

He knew who she was even though they'd never met.

"I apologize for making this unannounced visit to your home, Mr. Eric Berry," She said in her heavy Russian accent.

"Not at all, Ms. Irena Sokoll. What brings you here?"

"My Brittany, of course. There is a party for someone most important to me. I am not invited but I have come to read tea leaves, so to speak."

He opened the door and allowed her in.

As they descended the stairs, everyone but Brittany was a bit over-awed, even Santana, who always felt a little fear around the woman, although she, too, had known her since she was five.

Brittany grinned and said, "Wow! Hi, Ms. Sokoll."

"Hello, malyshka."

"Thanks for coming."

The older woman shrugged, "With this news you tell me? Who could stop me?" She looked up. "This thing—this ball? It can stop spinning surely."

Jacob rushed to stop it.

"Thank you. No music. I am Russian. I have lived it and you can rarely please me with it, I promise this."

Jacob hastened to turn off the music.

"May I take a seat, Eric Berry, Jacob Berry?"

They both nodded.

She gave a ghost of a smile as she sat and said, "I know all of your names and much more about all of you than you'd believe. My Brittany has loved Santana and Quinn and Rachel nearly all of her life. She tells me everything always."

"Most of you don't know me. You know I am Irena Sokoll. You know something of me as anyone knows people in Lima, Ohio or even in the public eye as I have been all of my life. Still you know nothing. Next to no one does except for my Brittany and my Michael. And I have not even told them what I will tell you now."

She placed her purse and her cane on the seat next to her. She patted her cane. "This is an affectation, if you do not know. I am very able. I do not need a cane. But it has a short dagger concealed in it. You think what? A taser might be better for such a small woman. Yes. Of couse. Perhaps more efficient but to stab someone seems so much more personal, no?"

No one had any idea what to say to this except Brittany, who said, "Totally."

"Look at your eyes! I am not a witch, I assure you. I am more so that crone who sits on the path in a fairy tale and tells the characters something they need to hear for their journey. You see?"

The woman had everyone's complete attention.

"How to start. Perhaps it is as easy as dance. I will say I love to dance but I was found and forced to dance from the time I was four in the days when Russia was Mother Russia. You understand? You children, perhaps not. But your parents will know I mean Communist Russia. I had no choice." She shrugged, "And of course, I was groomed for Bolshoi. I was brilliant."

She glared at them as if daring them to disagree but they only nodded.

"When I was twelve, in one of the very rare times I had respite from my classes, my training, I went to a park across from our studio, which seemed like a prison, believe me. I met a man there. A man nearly as old as I am now. We talked and we fell in love. And I know what you think, with your American minds. No. Not that sort of love. He was a good and decent man. He was only kind to me. We tried to meet nearly every day or every other and sometimes we played chess, sometimes fed pigeons or sometimes just talked. The only thing ever said that you might be stupid enough to find improper?"

She stared at the floor for seconds before she continued, "He said we must have been…how did he put it…disjointed in time somehow. That it was so very unlucky we were not the same age. I remember that day like even today. It was very bright and the sky was so blue you would not believe it with no clouds and it was so cold and it was so bitter and sad and true. What he said—I could somehow almost taste it. I knew what he felt and meant and I know he knew I knew and felt it too. We did not say anything else. We smiled at each other and just threw bread to the pigeons. Remember this was in the days when we were lucky to have bread. I could not eat it to keep my weight but he seemed to have it always. You understand?

Everyone nodded again.

"It one day happened—as life does. I got a notice from someone I did not know and I rushed to hospital and he was dying. And I remember crying…" She shook her head because her eyes were welling, "Bolshoi when I danced there? You never cry. Even in agony, no crying. Smile even when your feet are bleeding. May I have a glass of punch?"

Rachel rushed to get it for her and Irena thanked her for it.

She took a sip and continued. "He told me a man in a yellow hat would wait for me in the park and there would be a note from him that I must read and burn. I said yes and he said, 'It is the man in the yellow hat for Curious George, Irena my love.' "We smiled at each other and he said, "'Are you not curious? Go. You will understand. Now and in the future. I love you and go. Please. For me, if not for you.'"

She shrugged again. "So I told him I loved him and I left and I did not watch my love die."

"I met the man in the yellow hat three days later. He gave me a letter and said, again, "'Burn this.' I agreed."

"My love told me he had left me all of his estate—but it was in America and his solicitors would hand it over to me and he knew I would know what that meant. He did not write it but it meant that I must defect. He promised me it would be worth it. What he did not write was to trust him and leave my parents and my home and everything. I did trust him. He told me one other thing. He wrote at some point I would wonder where to go next in my life and to close my eyes and hold a pin and stab it in a map. He said I would find the next love of my life there."

She took another sip of punch.

"So I defected, which was not easy or happy and what you Americans would call a very big deal that you children are too young to remember. He had not lied. He was nearly a billionaire and it was all left to me. So I was rich and could dance only because I wanted to for the first time in my life. Of course the New York City Ballet was only too happy to have me but after my career ended, I took my love's advice and stabbed a pin in a map and so it is. I am in Lima, Ohio. Where I found the one other love of my life."

Brittany smiled. "That's so totally cool. Who is it, Ms. Sokoll?"

Santana looked at Brittany and felt, through and through, she'd never loved her more. "Britts, she means you."

Brittany stared at Irena for a long time and then said something no one in the room expected, "I am so completely honored. Thank you so much. I love you so much, too." She knelt at the woman's feet.

Irena waved her hand, "The honor is mutual and I know you know what I mean."

"Of course I do, Ms. Sokoll. Like totally. But you know me. I think I'm really a checkers person and could we feed ducks?"

Irena laughed, "Of course! Then we are, what do you say, cool?"

Brittany hugged her and whispered, "Totally and always."

Jacob said, "Okay! I'm going to put the entrees in the oven. Ms. Sokoll, I hope you'll stay for our dinner."

"Irena and yes."

"Great."

"Jacob?'

"I have more to say of great import. Will your preparations need time?"

She looked so serious that he fidgeted. "They'll be thirty minutes cooking time but I can be back on a nickel."

As he scampered up the stairs, she said to Eric, "I presume that means less than five minutes?"

"Exactly."

"Ms. Sokoll?"

"Ms. Fabray. I'm Irena to everyone except the children in the room."

"Irena. How, exactly, do you know us?"

"I've taught Brittany and Michael dance since they were five years old. Santana has, naturally, been part of my life exactly as long. And your daughter doesn't know me but she's the third in all of this although she's always considered herself first, hasn't she?" She stared at Quinn, "Look at me, little girl."

Quinn did.

"You were pregnant at fifteen and you bravely carried your child to term and gave her up. I applaud you. I know that must have been wrenching. Would you imagine it was easy for me to leave everything and everyone I knew and cause an international political incident when I was fifteen years old?"

Quinn stared at her and swallowed before answering, "No ma'am.'

"It was not. It had to be done. For my life. To give me life. As you gave your child life. Surely you must understand giving a child life when you could so easily not have was brave. There is something that changes when you choose to go through suffering, not around it, Quinn Fabray. I defected from Russia to the United States when I was younger than you are now, when I would have had a life you would not believe because I was already a national superstar in my country. How do you think that felt?"

Quinn began to rock back and forth gently.

"I am asking you honestly. As I was. A fifteen year old child in the Bolshoi Ballet running from my keepers and my country and my family asking sanctuary from the United States. How do you think that felt?"

Quinn lifted her chin—being cornered always angered her. She said woodenly. "I don't know. I guess it must have sucked."

Irena laughed loudly. "Sucked describes it. Imagine the paperwork! You would not believe it!"

Quinn laughed but then her voice quieted, "I'm sorry. I'm trying to act brave and I'm saying stupid things when that's not how I feel."

"It is nothing, Acting brave works. I am saying I have just met you but I know you better than you think."

When Jacob rushed back downstairs, Irena said, "And now I will read the tea leaves."

In everyone's estimation except Brittany and Santana's, this was weird. Irena could be spooky and they both knew that.

The woman sighed, "As we all know, Brittany and Michael are going to Juilliard."

Rachel couldn't help herself, "I thought they only had pre-auditions."

Irena waved a dismissive hand, "Of course they will be admitted. I say so. You want to go too, do you not?"

Rachel nodded.

"You are admitted. It is done."

Rachel shook her head violently, "What?"

"You are in. Brittany has been sending me links to your MySpace videos for a very long time and I have forwarded them to the people who exist and I have threatened dark things and demanded your admission, which they have accepted. You must do the paperwork but it is done."

Jacob burst into tears and said, "Jesus Christ!"

Eric, who was tearing up as well, said, "Honey, you're Jewish."

"Who cares? Our babies are going to Juilliard!"

"Look at me, Rachel Berry."

"Yes, Ms. Sokoll."

"All freshman students at Juilliard must live in their dorm for one year. Brittany will not tell anyone she is married and you will be her roommate for that year, do you understand? It will be good for this Latina wife of hers to learn patience for her woman, I promise you. She is impossible."

"Ms. Sokoll!"

"Am I wrong?"

Santana crossed her arms over her chest. "No—but register me completely pissed."

"When not, my beauty?"

Santana smirked, "I always knew I was your fave after Britts and before Mike."

"You are my love's love. You get special privileges."

Santana laughed even as Rachel said, "And me?"

"Of course, you. Aren't you always first and foremost? Always? Brittany will finish her four years at the school. She can never physically be a ballerina as I was, which is where real money is to be dancing. Look at me—look at her. She is physically perfect and capable but no. There are no ballerinas shaped like her. We speak of this. We understand this. She is destined to be a world-class back-up or Broadway corps dancer for a very limited time—perhaps age 35 or 40 if she is lucky enough not to be injured. You must remember we true dancers are elite athletes and prone to disaster. I would not leave her unprotected so she will develop her other tremendous skill as a choreographer during her school training. Both she and Michael will, who will be at school for four years, as well. You will be there for at least one year, perhaps two and then you will quit to be on Broadway."

Rachel shook her head again and thought vaguely she might have ear mites, "What?"

The woman shrugged again, "I know people who would put you in shows now but you are too immature at this point."

"I am not!"

The woman gave Rachel a withering look. "I was in the _Bolshoi _when I was twelve, child. Do you know what happens to a girl when she wants to get ahead? Or even worse_ needs _to as I did—for myself—for my parents? I do know—I have _been_ you but not you. You would be doing things you would never imagine. Believe me this would happen. I have never loved anyone except Konstantine and Brittany but I've lived through sex with men I don't even remember countless times to assure my place before I was 15. So no. I have never willingly had sex of any kind. But I see the look in your eyes and can see you want what you want far too much, you virgin girl. This will never happen to you. Never. You will spend your first year with Brittany and I will look at you at 19. You need three years and then I will give you access to the people who want your talent now. But no. Not yet."

"Who are you to make that choice?"

Brittany shook her head, "Rach! Are you listening? Don't!"

Irena waved her hand at Brittany with a wry smile, "I am fine, malyshka. Who am I? Who are you, Rachel Berry?'

"What?"

"Who are you? You are nothing. You are no one. You can be and I believe will be but not yet. Who am _I_? I have been a prima ballerina at the Boshoi and in the New York City Ballet. I have been the best one can be in my field. I am an established artist who has suffered for it. Brittany has told me how Quinn and Santana have treated you. When I was training in the old days in sweet Mother Russia, you would beg and whine like a dog to be treated as nicely as they have treated you at their very worst. You will go to Juilliard. You deserve it or I would not support you. But believe me, the reason I'm ensuring your placement is for Brittany. Although this is true, it is no hardship to help someone I know is worthy of artistic assistance. You could get the placement on your own. I believe this. But you are such a greedy, obsessive child. You do know that about yourself, no?"

She smiled at Rachel—but it was not a happy smile.

"You should thank me, not question my judgement. Who am I? I let myself be raped time and time again before I was even 15 and _not _because it got me where I wanted to go which would be your goal and not to be a star, which I was already. Giving myself to men when I was a child gave my parents extra food in the good old days, as you people say. Would you ever let that happen to you solely for a role? At this moment? I look into your greedy eyes and I don't even wonder. Tell me I am wrong."

Because Quinn felt a horrified sense the woman was only too right, she stood up and said, "Just step off. Don't. I don't care about the fucking Bolshoi or what the fuck-ever—you don't hurt my girl. Who are you TO HURT MY GIRL?"

For the first time in her life Brittany stepped squarely into Quinn's space in a menacing way. "Stop yelling, Q, and don't curse at my teacher because I love you and don't want to hurt you but I can and I will."

Santana stood and said. "Times two."

"Brittany, Santana, this is fine. You ask who I am, Quinn Fabray? Who are _you_ to curse in your elders' presence or a guest in another's home? Sit down, little girl."

Everyone reluctantly took a seat as Judy said, "I'm so sorry, Irena, for my daughter's behavior. I'm frankly shocked."

Irena shrugged. "I am not. Young love. These things happen. And your daughter, how do you put it? She is a mixed bag of tricks right now and even she knows it. There is deep truth in what I have said and that is why your daughter is angry. Let us forget that outburst and not be maudlin. I have plans. Santana I have known forever. Quinn, I know you from my Brittany. Where do you two wish for college?"

Santana said, "NYU or Columbia."

"Me, too."

"I know your grades. Brittany tells these things. Columbia I can promise on two conditions."

They stared at each other and then at her.

"You will continue to compose music, Santana."

"What?"

Rachel's short question was waved away. "Santana is a truly gifted popular music composer. She shares it with her love and with me. For me? It is like hearing a rabid dog in my ears but I know quality, of its sort, when I hear it. She, too, will not finish college. She will loom large in the music business."

Irena stared at Quinn. "You will go to Columbia and study whatever deadly and sensible thing you believe will be good for you like business but you will minor in theater."

Quinn laughed. "Are you kidding me?"

"I am not. You have been acting all of your life. And now my Brittany tells me you are learning to stop acting, which is the only way to be an actor and a human. I have known great actors who were great humans. They knew the difference. Have you looked in the mirror? You are one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Use it for money, child, in a way that is artistically and personally respectable."

"I don't want to act."

"I did not say you had to. I said you had to minor in theater in order for my ensuring Columbia. It is as easy as that. I hold the cards. Say yes and it is done."

Quinn swallowed, hard, and said, "Yes."

"That was difficult for you, was it not?"

"Very."

"Bullies never like to be bullied, do they?"

Quinn glared at her, "No."

"It is merely fear, child. It will go away. I know this. I see it will happen for you."

Everyone in the room nearly stopped breathing.

"How?"

"You will stop acting and you will start living. You are already on your path and you will find it will be easier and easier just to breathe. I have felt it in myself. You will too. This I can promise you."

Quinn smiled at her, "I apologize for cursing at you. It was disrespectful and unwarranted."

Irena grinned, "A little warranted—I was poking at your love with a sharp stick. She is very strong—as strong as I was at her age. But I wish someone had given me strong medicine in my past. No half measures with Rachel. I will not have her defiled by her ambition. It is a danger for her until she is older. And now, although this punch is delicious I need vodka—does it exist in this house?"

"Of course," Jacob said.

"Excellent. We should all have a shot of it."

"But—"

"These children can handle one or even two shots of vodka—after all this talk? It is good for them, occasionally. It thins their blood."

Although he knew they had the vodka, Eric was incredibly surprised they had enough shot glasses for the toast.

He and Jacob brought them down with a chilled bottle of Stoli and poured them.

Eric handed them around, "Madame Sokoll, the toast?"

She lifted her glass, "To Brittany and Santana who were paired before they were even born, as God intended. And to all of us who love them and will support them in their union."

After they tipped their glasses, everyone smiled.

"You see? I told you. Vodka is good. In moderation and without carrots, Rachel."

"Quinn! You told you her?"

Irena shrugged again, "Of course not. Quinn told Brittany and I know all. A second round. I am Russian. It will not hurt them."

Eric filled their glasses.

Irena shouted, "To Rachel!"

"To Rachel!"

"Dad?"

"Baby?"

"Turn on the disco ball, please."

He rushed to do so.

As it spun, Rachel said, "To all of us."

They looked up at the lights and the magic of just existing.

Jacob said, "Almost time for food!"

Irena responded, "This is good. I am as hungry as a bitch wolf. I don't know what will happen if I don't eat soon."

Brittany said, "You'll be okay."

"You have always been a hopeful child."

Brittany answered quietly and used her name for the first time, "I'm not your child, Irena. I am more than that and thank you."

They looked at each other and Irena said, "Just so. Am I not lucky?"

"Me too."

And as the ball moved and cast flickering light upon them all, they drank.


	38. Chapter 38

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

* * *

"How much time before we eat?"

"Twenty minutes, Ms. Sokoll."

"Irena, please."

"Irena."

"What shall we do for twenty minutes? Shall we play—what is it called…ah yes. Twister?"

Jacob took a stab at something. "Brittany could show you some beautiful choreography she's shown us."

And suddenly Brittany looked as if she'd been stabbed. Jacob realized he'd made a mistake as Irena said to Brittany, "You have shown others work you have not shown me? And why _not _me and our Michael?"

Brittany lowered her head. "It's not like—I'm sorry. I mean, it wasn't like a big thing. Because it was just dumb. I'm sorry."

Irena threw her hands in the air. "First, stop being sorry. Can you think you could do anything to apologize for—ever to me in my life? You? You are my…" she stopped herself. "You are to me as I have said and you will show me what you have created and chosen to show these people before me or you will know what is in my cane, malyshka."

Brittany felt terribly chagrined but she realized her teacher was giving her an out, so she smiled, "Still, I'm sorry, Ms. Sokoll, but, like, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't really stab me. I mean, just sayin'."

Irena rolled her eyes, "Stab you? I would stab myself to the death first. But I am Russian. Your Latina? She thinks she knows from what—a hot head? No—she blows up if the wind hits her wrong and in a minute it is over. People from cold countries are worse, believe me. Slow to anger and then the explosion that lasts. Stop this Ms. Sokoll. I am Irena forever to _you_ as my beloved but not to your future wife or these other children, who need all the respect God or their parents or I can give them. They are hard-headed children. Like bricks—every one of them. Worse even than me and you know this is saying something not to be believed. You will show me what you have created and be forgiven. One assumes there is music."

Brittany nodded, "It's choreography to "I Could Have Danced All Night."

Irena nodded. "Very well. Teach me."

Eric rushed to play the song as Irena and Brittany talked in hushed tones in the middle of the room. They didn't move as they had when Brittany taught Rachel. They made a few cursory movements before Irena said, "Cut the music please."

When Eric did, Irena said, "I am so proud. You are a professional. It is perfect. You know what you can do with me and you may improvise as I may."

"You're a show-off. I know. It's more fun if Rach sings. Seriously."

Irena looked at the people in the room. "Very well. Sing, Rachel. I know I will enjoy to hear it. The future is yours but the past is mine. Brittany is your equal but even today I am your better. I am one of the best dancers of this century and I am 73 years old. Watch and imagine, little girl, that what I had to do to be what I still am was viciously brutal to learn, in a way you truly can't imagine. A voice is a voice and you train it and so it goes. Ballet at _my_ level is the entire body and it is blood."

Eric started the music and Rachel began to sing. Although they'd seen the dance before with Brittany and Rachel, it was literally nothing like what it was with Brittany and Irena.

Eric, Jacob and Rachel immediately understood that Brittany had accommodated Rachel in dance. Rachel gave the song everything she had because she _did_ know that Irena was one of the truly great dancers of a generation. The woman seemed to move as if she were merely air. She danced fluidly and added lightning fast turns and graceful flourishes as she met Brittany and when the girl lifted her, it was if she weighed nothing. Every flourish, every movement was so impossibly magical, tears welled in her Rachel's eyes as she sang. Once again, Brittany had led her to art.

Brittany improvised at the ending, as Rachel sang, "Why all at once…my heart took flight." Brittany lifted the tiny woman completely into the air above her for that line and it truly looked like the woman was soaring into flight. It was only for a few seconds but everyone watching understood the strength and skill it took both dancers to make it look so effortlessly lyrical and beautiful. Brittany gently brought her gently to the ground for the finish as they smiled at each other.

When the song was over, everyone paused before they clapped because they were stunned.

Irena kissed Brittany's cheek. "Your work is superb and you must never hide it from me again. I have danced with the best in the world but you are my favorite, beloved. But at the end. That last lift? Thank you for that but you must never do that without someone as experienced as I am."

"But I lift girls all the time in cheerleading."

"I know this. But that is bouncing and barbarism. I put up with your participation in it because you are the strongest person on the team and are always a base. But never on the stage—never in dance. The feet? The positions? Completely different. Promise me."

"I promise. But I, like, lift San over my head all the time when we're playing and she weighs four pounds more than you."

Santana said. "Oh my God. Britts!"

"Why do you do this thing and if it is sexual, I will call your parents or perhaps the police."

Santana barked, "Eww! Ms. Sokoll! I can't even—it's a _game_, okay and we only play it every blue moon or something."

Irena tapped her foot. Everyone in the room was riveted and didn't say a word.

"It's Mighty Mouse okay? We play Mighty Mouse. It's not a biggie."

"You will show me this…Mighty Mouse if it involves my Brittany lifting a 97 pound woman over her head."

"Oh. My. God."

Quinn laughed because she'd actually seen it when they'd been children but had no idea they still did it.

Santana looked at Rachel and at the malicious joy in her eyes and then she just had to laugh.

Rachel said, "Sucks to be you, Santana?"

"Totally. And if you repeat this, I will find you."

"But Brittany loves me."

"I'll still punish you. And Q can kiss it. And I don't mean my lips."

"We're waiting, Mighty Mouse."

Santa looked as surly as Rachel had ever seen her, which was saying something.

"San?"

"Britts?"

"You can't have a mean face and be Mighty Mouse."

Santana focused on Brittany, who only looked happy to play a game she loved. "Okay, Britts. Ready to go?"

"Yep."

Santana took three steps back and said, "One, two, three," before she launched herself at Brittany, who easily grabbed her at her hips and lifted her over her head.

Everyone was impressed and although Irena and Eric, as athletes, knew exactly what it was for a woman to be able to lift and hold that weight above her head. They knew, too, that Santana's straight and rigid 'flying' posture with one arm extended and one leg slightly bent were a tribute to fantastic core body strength, as well.

Brittany looked up at her and said, "Mighty Mouse!"

Santana looked down at her. "Brittany! Is that you!"

"Yes, Mighty Mouse! I need your help!"

Santana sang, "Here I come to save the day!"

And then Brittany gently lowered her to the ground and Santana said, "How can I help you, Brittany?"

Brittany smiled at her. "Marry me!"

"I thought you were marrying that Santana bitch?"

"Oh that's right. Sorry, Mighty Mouse. I called you for nothing, then."

"_De nada_. Keep your woman. I got a _chica_ on the west side."

"Thanks for coming."

"For you? Always."

They smiled at each other and Santana looked at their audience. "So that's it. That's Mighty Mouse."

"Thank you for showing us this, Santana." Irena said. "You will make my love a wonderful spouse. The lift is properly executed. This pleases me. You may continue." She blessedly seemed to know when and how to change a subject, as she said, "And you are a wonderful singer, Rachel."

"Thank you, Ms. Sokoll. But it was a true pleasure to be able to sing for you. It was completely my honor."

Irena smiled, "This is true, but child?"

"Yes?"

"I know you work hard. My Brittany tells me this."

"Yes, I hope I'm working hard enough."

"I suspect so. But listen, please."

"Yes."

"Art is not life. I tell you from one artist to another that this misunderstanding can trip you as you walk through life. I was not meant for love except in the ways I have had it and I am not sorry for that. You are different. You may have love and perhaps have it even now. Remember that art is not life and you can have love and have art. Respect them equally."

Rachel stared into the woman's dark eyes, "Thank you."

"_De nada_, as my reprobate would say."

"Ms. Sokoll, one of these days, I swear…"

"You will what, Santana?"

"Somethin' bad, I just tellin' ya."

Irena waved a hand, "Look at me. Old as I am, in a battle between us and without even my cane, what would happen?"

Santana stared at her for a long moment and then just said, "Fuck."

"Exactly. But language."

"Sorry. Ms. Sokoll."

"Just so."

She looked at the other adults in the room, "This profanity. A work in progress."

Santana snorted. "Please. The profanity is here. You mean stopping it's a work in progress, Ms. Sokoll."

Irena looked at Santana as someone she loved, as the love of her love, as she always had. "Again. Just so, Santana. When these people turn their backs, I will perhaps throttle you gently enough not to give marks for saying this. The police will never know."

Santana smiled and knew just how to hit back, "I love you, Ms. Sokoll."

"What do you Americans say? You are asking for it?"

Santana smiled and Irena gave the slightest of grins.

Brittany knew everything was completely perfect.

* * *

Jacob was thrilled. He was also slightly tipsy. He was a very cheap and easy drunk. A party, dancing, incredibly exciting news, a very frightening guest and two shots of vodka on an empty stomach!

He pulled his braised beef and onions with tomatoes over a bed of Spanish rice and his vegan eggplant-faux Parmesan with onions and red peppers over the same rice.

He'd timed his asparagus and green beans to be ready when everything else was and had made a vegan friendly salad for them all.

As everyone trooped upstairs, he announced, "Everything's ready. The plates are here and salad bowls are here. So let's do it buffet style!"

Eric nodded, rubbed his husband's shoulder and said, "Everything smells great. Can I get you a soda water?"

Jacob took the hint and whispered, "Am I drunk?"

"A little."

Jacob sighed, "Don't let me make—"

"I'd never. I gotcha. You're my guy."

"Thanks, Eric."

"Always, Jake."

Everyone dug into the beef dish except for Rachel and Quinn.

"You know I won't be upset if you prefer the beef, Quinn. I'm sure it's delicious."

"She can't do that, Frodo. She's whipped."

Quinn glowered at Santana, "Respecting and sharing my girlfriend's dietary choices in her presence doesn't spell whipped to me."

Santana laughed and made a cracking whip sound.

"Whatever."

"Ooh. Wow, Q. It's like you're Einstein."

"Wow, S. It's like you're a bitch."

"Quinn!"

"Sorry, mom. That just slipped out."

Brittany frowned, "My stomach is starting to hurt."

Santana said, "Baby, we're teasing."

"Don't tease so hard, San. It makes me feel sad."

Santana took Brittany's hand, "I'm sorry, baby. Look at me. Where are we?"

Brittany blinked, "At Rachel's house."

Santana smiled, "And why are we here having this nice dinner with our friends?"

Brittany smiled, "Because we're engaged."

Santana gripped her hand and said, "Exactly. Quinn and I will be like this forever. I love you and you know I love Quinn and I even semi-tolerate the hobbit."

"No."

"No what?"

"Say it."

They stared at each other for a long few moments but Brittany won, as she usually did.

"Okay. I loves the hobbs too but this is killing me. I'm dying here. And it's my engagement party which is sort of unfair."

Rachel stabbed a piece of eggplant and grinned at Brittany, who beamed back at her, then said to Santana, "Did you know that Brittany and I are nearly ready to launch our submarine from dry-dock? As you know, there have been considerable repairs we've undergone and—"

Santana pointed her fork at Rachel. "I swear to God—no. Just no. Talk about show music, ponies, kittens, unicorns, whatever—but not that effin' submarine."

Irena stared at Santana and asked, "Obviously, I am not understanding. A submarine as in a submersible vessel?"

"Ms. Sokoll, I'm begging you to let it go."

Brittany brightened immediately, "Ms. S-Irena. It's the best game ever probably on planet Earth and Rachel made it up and it's so much fun!"

As Brittany explained it excitedly, everyone at the table had to smile at her.

When she'd finished, Irena nodded, "Ah. I see. And so now you feel your craft is seaworthy?"

"Totally. At least we hope so. We'll see. It's going to be massive when it hits the water!"

"I do not doubt this. Does your vessel have a name?"

Brittany's smile widened, "Totally and you will never in a million years believe it. Rach made it up. It's the USS Lord Subington."

Everyone laughed but something about that hit Santana right in her heart as she looked at Rachel. She gently tapped the table twice and tapped her heart and Rachel returned the gesture.

After dinner, Jacob was thrilled to throw Brittany and Santana out so that he could perform a 'cake reveal.'

It was a two-layer devil's food cake with cream cheese icing, which was what Santana had told Rachel was her favorite. It had Brittany and Santana written on it with small hearts piped around their names.

But when the girls were allowed in the room, Brittany was stunned. She looked at the cake and thought it was really super pretty but there were two figurines on it. A plastic duck and a plastic ninja.

She whispered, "Oh my God. San. Look. It's totally us."

"I know, right? We need a picture!"

As everyone except Rachel and Quinn ate cake, Brittany frowned and said, "I'm sorry you can't eat the cake, Rach."

"It's okay. This dairy-free ice cream is delicious and I'm used to not being able to eat cake."

Brittany smiled at that, "Toni would let you eat cake."

"What?"

"You know, Quinn's sister. Antoinette. Her name's not Marie but she's like the most let them eat cake person like ever, right?"

Everyone looked at each other and Brittany noticed. "Am I wrong?"

Irena said, "No my beloved. As usual, you are always eerily right."


	39. Chapter 39

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

* * *

After Ms. Sokoll left, Santana said, "Excuse me but I needs to talk to my cap before we leave."

They went into the foyer and when Santana saw the look in Quinn's eyes, she looked at the other guests and said, "Me and Q have to talk outside and this is private, 'kay?"

Everyone nodded and Quinn and Santana stepped out onto the front porch and closed the door.

* * *

Quinn's voice was bitter. "Drama much? Talk about what?"

"I know you were being all cool for the party and shit so you wouldn't upset Britts or freak Eric and Jacob but I could see where you're going in your head because I'm your bestie so I'll just be real with you. Ms. Sokoll's talking all that shit about Rachel maybe fucking people to get ahead? She said it because we all know that's true. But she was talking about Rachel now—at 16. If she went to New York now, she wouldn't have you there with her or Britts or me. She'd be all alone with her big fat ambition. But fucking to get places is not what Rachel wants to do and we all know that. It's _not_ Rachel's fault that's she's just a damn kid now and has only had one fucking dream in her entire damned life before she met you. And she hasn't even _done_ anything. Got me? You don't get to be what you're just about to try to be."

"And that's what?"

"Her judge, jury and executioner, bitch!"

Quinn's eyes welled. "I sort of hate her right now."

"Hold please. You think I don't know that? It's like radiation glowing off of you. And it's not your right! She doesn't belong to you and she's just a kid. Jesus!"

"She'd fuck strangers and you know that!"

Santana pushed Quinn against the wall, "And_ you _fucked a boy for a couple of wine-coolers on a fat day—not for what Ms. Sokoll was talking about. How about fucking someone if it would get your parents bread—how about for a chance for every single thing you'd ever wanted or dreamed of in your whole entire life? Rachel is a CHILD and she'd fall for that crap, just like you did. You wanted to feel pretty—she wants the golden ring, baby. And you're hating even the idea of it, aren't you? That she'd be tempted and might fall. Sure. That's what Ms. Sokoll was saying. Rachel's not fucking ready for the real world. Not yet. She's a child and she got home-truth tonight from someone who knew how to give it. And I'm sure that stung. For both of you. But I swear to God, if you hurt my hobby, I'll hurt you right back and you know I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my life except for my Britts. Even myself, you complete and fucking hypocritical bitch."

Quinn stared at her and then half-grinned, "Could you just say what you mean?"

Santana laughed. "Oh right. Sorry." They glared at each other and Santana said, "Friends tell the truth, Quinn. I'm your friend."

Quinn looked at the girl she'd known forever. "I'm in love with her, S."

Santana nodded.

"But I'm fucked in the head. I want to hurt her right now. Badly. Like really badly because she—"

"Stop it! You want to hurt her? You want to hurt the person you love? You _are_ fucked in the head! Take that back, right now."

Quinn stalled and Santana said, "No! No bullshit with me."

"She doesn't want me or love me and she'd give herself to anyone who'd help her and that makes her a whore and—"

Santana slammed Quinn into the wall again and clapped her hand over the girl's mouth. "Never say that word in my presence again. That makes her what? A woman. Things happen, Quinn. Sometimes, you idiot, a woman makes a choice between fucking and starving or dying. And no, this _doesn't _have to happen with Rachel and it _won't _happen with Rachel but for women all over the world it's a reality of life, you beautiful upper-middle-class First World white girl."

She removed her hand and stepped back. "Why do I exist? My great-grandmother had no one and nothing! Nothing but herself to give to men for the money to come to America. And hello! Here I am. And I know Lauren was singing that song for you. A girl in trouble _is_ a temporary thing. But you? _You_ can make it permanent if you want. And to get back to the point you're avoiding with your bullshit, Rachel wants you and loves you and adores you, shit-for-brains, and I guarantee you that _you're_ the one putting the brakes on when you two make out. I can see that a mile away."

Quinn glowered at the girl. "Fuck you."

Santana smiled. "Too late. I'm engaged."

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"That too."

"One thing bitch. You are leaving this house tonight before me or with me because you'll take this out on Rachel and it is _not_ her fault—how you're feeling or even how badly she _might_ act given the opportunity before she's mature enough to make good judgements. You need to talk to your therapist about this."

Quinn glared at Santana, "She'd fuck someone else, S."

"Wow, one track mind much? And actually? Rachel? I've sort of met her. Probably _not_ in my opinion but hey! Let's play make-believe. She might fuck someone who meant nothing for business because she's a dumbass. Whatever. What did Finn mean to me?"

"It doesn't matter? It's wrong and I can't deal with someone who—"

Santana clapped both hands together, "You can't deal because you're both CHILDREN. And _she's _a diva and _you_ have massive insecurity and anger problems and sex just pushes those buttons hard which is sorta kinda why _you're _in therapy, isn't it? Fuck, Quinn. If _I'm_ sounding way more rational than you are, smell the coffee! Rachel hasn't _done_ anything! Ms. Sokoll was warning her about herself but right now it's just in your mind. I swear to fucking GOD, just listen to this because I completely mean it. It's the night of my engagement party but I promise you I would totally let you anger-fuck me right this minute and I know Brittany would too before either of us would let you within ten feet of our hobby until you've dealt with what was said tonight in therapy."

Quinn scoffed. "Me? Fuck you?"

"Don't even act like it's not tempting you. And sure I'd let you do it. For Rachel's sake. If you need to fuck someone because you're pissed off, I'm your girl and Brittany wouldn't be mad. Brittany would even watch and you could fuck her too because she'd understand. But not Rachel. If you stay the night, you'd fuck Rachel to get yours first and you'd regret it—not only because it would devastate her because it wouldn't be love but because I'd beat the living shit out of you."

"I hate you."

"So what?"

Quinn looked at her and Santana saw the HBIC, not her friend. "I do want to. I want to do it."

Santana stared her down, "Oh, I know you'd swipe that V-card, baby. I see it in your eyes and it's only because you're being a stupid, angry, vengeful insecure kid. But it's not happening and I'll back that up with violence if I have to. Look at you! I know what sex is—but you know shit about it and you can't hide what you're thinking from me. You totally want to fuck me right this minute and just for spite. But you'd never, ever, ever fuck anyone _ever_ for that one chance to get what you've most wanted in life like sad, imperfect, desperate childish Rachel _might _in your imagination, would you, little Ms. Perfect?"

A long, angry quiet minute went by, which felt to both of them like an hour. Quinn relaxed her posture, "To paraphrase you, when you're right, it messes with my world view."

Santana smiled at her and completely relaxed. "Are you kidding me? When I'm right, it messes with mine."

* * *

Rachel was pacing back and forth. Brittany sighed, "They totally won't hit each other, Rach. You have to just let them work stuff out sometimes, right Judy?"

Judy nodded.

"But it's about me. Quinn's angry with me."

"Yeah. I could tell but it was about what Irena said. Don't worry about it."

"How can I not?"

Brittany stared at her. "Like by not worrying about it?"

"Brittany!"

"I know I'm dumb but isn't that sort of obvious?"

That was so incredibly true Rachel decided to ignore it. "But what if they really fight?"

"Rach, seriously, it's like they're totally monsters in those old Japanese monster movies and they fight and stuff but then there's another movie and they're both still alive. And like neither of them can breathe fire or fly or stomp cities or stuff so it's like you just wait and they come back and look just a little pissed off at each other or mostly at themselves. It depends."

"That's a perfect description, Brittany."

"Thanks, Judy."

"We've lived through this for years, Rachel."

"I don't know how. I'm beside myself."

Brittany sighed, "Come here Rachel."

Rachel crossed and stood in front of her friend.

"I really don't like to say this in front of Judy and your dads but I will, okay? You know Quinn's all jelly about what Irena said, right? She gets scared about stuff."

"I know."

"And maybe it scares you, too, and maybe your dads for you and Judy for Quinn. So promise me something."

"What?"

"I'm a pretty blonde girl, right? Not as pretty as you but I think I'm okay, right?"

"You're beautiful, sweetie, much prettier than I am."

"I don't think so. But, like, when we're in New York, if some man or woman ever asks you for something, and I guess you know I mean sex stuff, to get something you really super, super want..."

Jacob and Eric and Judy's faces fell.

"Yes?"

"And you really don't want to but it just seems like you should or have to? Just call me. I'll do it. And I promise, even when me and San are married. San totes would hate it for me but she wouldn't be mad about it if it was for you. She knows me. It's like more of a biggie for some people than others. It would totally suck for me because I only want San but San would let me do it and we'd forget it in a few days if it kept one of our besties from doing something that sort of made her remember doing something sad maybe forever. So let me do it. You _can't _do sex things for stuff like singing, okay Rach? I'll do them for you if it keeps you from doing them. Let me. I'm totally serious."

She reached out and tapped Rachel's cheek gently.

"But if you don't want that for me maybe you could sort of let knowing I'd be the one having to do it make you strong enough to say no, okay? Because I'd totally cry like forever if I found out you didn't ask me and did something like that. Irena's always told me something since when I was five. I know, I really know, something you maybe don't. We're not our bodies. I mean, a dancer's body is everything but still it's sort of nothing. Irena always said, 'A body, child, is only something to be disciplined, respected and used for one's purpose.' And Father Andy taught me we all have souls inside our bodies and I believe that. I'm sort of more grown up in one way than you are. If you did sex stuff like for singing or something, it would touch your soul and hurt it really bad. But even if people touch my body, they don't touch my soul. Only the people I love and who love me touch that."

Rachel just sat with that for a few moments before smiling at her, "Thank you, Brittany. And it's a deal I'll never call you on or for because I'd rather do anything than hurt you. But thank you. And now _I_ sort of want to marry you."

Brittany grinned, "That's super sweet but I have to marry San. But I totally understand. I think it happens a lot with girls and me."

"Really? Why?"

Brittany said very quietly, "Sometimes I think I'm a girl whisperer."

Jacob wrapped his arms around Brittany and Eric kissed her on the forehead.

Judy only said, "Yes. She's been this perfect all her life."

* * *

When Quinn and Santana walked into the house, Brittany said, "See. They only just look a little pissed. They're both fine."

"Hello, B? She slammed me against a wall twice."

"But that's like normal, right?"

Quinn smiled.

"Santana Lopez! Are you okay, Quinn?"

Quinn nodded at Rachel, "Britts is right. It's like saying hello for me and San. Could we maybe talk for just a second privately?"

"Sure."

"No more than five minutes, Q."

"Whatever."

"I am so not kidding."

"I know."

Everyone stayed in the kitchen as Rachel and Quinn walked into the living room. As Quinn looked down into Rachel's large, sad, anxious eyes, she took a deep breath and realized, yet again, she had lots of work to do.

"I'm sorry Rachel."

"For what?"

"For being me—for getting jealous—for flipping out a little."

"It's okay."

"It's not, sweetheart. You don't deserve it."

Tears filled Rachel's eyes, "Do you still love me?"

"Of course I do and we're okay if you're still willing to have a crazy person as a girlfriend."

"You're not crazy."

"Sort of am, actually."

"No. You're a work in progress. So am I."

"I'm a work that needs progress quickly or I'm going to get my ass kicked. Santana told me she'd beat me if I stayed the night."

"It's probably best. I mean, both not to be beaten and not to stay. I need to think about things and I'm sure you do, as well."

Quinn's heart skipped a beat, "Do you—are you—do you want to break up with me?"

"No! Of course not! Kiss me."

"That was a complete non sequitur."

"Kiss me, Quinn."

Quinn kissed her tenderly and Rachel wrapped her arms around the girl's neck. "We just need to work on ourselves and it's hard. We're overloaded with baggage but I'm not going anywhere and I am NOT sleeping with anyone else, Quinn Fabray. I have been informed by Brittany that she will sleep with any predators who are lurking in my path toward stardom so that I'm not hurt and that Santana won't mind. It was actually one of the sweetest things anyone's ever said to me."

"Really? Santana said she'd let me fuck her if that's what I needed to get my angry out and that Brittany wouldn't mind. In Santana-speak, it was one of the sweetest things anyone's ever said to me."

"Luckily, we won't be taking advantage of their admittedly gracious offers. But they're perfect, aren't they? They're going to be so happy together. I'm so overjoyed for them."

"Me too, actually."

"One more kiss or I suspect Santana will intrude. She looked very wary."

Quinn smiled down at Rachel, "I will get better. I promise. And I do love you and I am sorry."

"You're forgiven. And I love you more."

"Not possible."

"Isn't that my line? I'm forgetting."

"Kiss me."

When they rejoined everyone in the kitchen, Santana's glare moved from Quinn to Rachel before she visibly relaxed.

"I know this was impromptu and a very odd party but I am more than thrilled that you two have made such a wonderful decision!"

"Hobby, are you saying you're happy for us?"

"You get my gist. Excellent, Santana." She rushed toward the girl and gripped her in a hug. Santana initially threw her hands in the air but then relented and hugged Rachel as well. "Damn! You hug like a python, Frodo."

"I'm filled with warm sentiment!"

"You're full of something, alright."

Quinn looked from them smiling at each other to Brittany, who was smiling and said, "And order is once again restored to the universe."

Brittany shrugged, "I know right?"


	40. Chapter 40

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**A/N: Thanks, as always for your reading and for your reviews. I appreciate them all. A chapter in which our characters do not have sex (sorry). Suffer through, brave readers if you choose to, a brief description of how Quinn's therapy's been going and then it's all WMHS.**

**The two songs included may be unfamiliar to some of you because they're very old. But very worthwhile. Again pretend there's something called youtube...and add the rest of the url.  
**

**Rachel's? _I'll Be Your Mirror_, in the Velvet Underground days performed by Nico. Once of the saddest and sweetest songs ever maybe to someone who's been hurt by you or hurt you.**

**.com/watch?v=xPbH1g5iicw**

**Kurt's? A song that's sweet and evocative by Blossom Dearie, a fantastic jazz pianist who was, by the way, damned attractive. It's a favorite of mine. A complete artist. **

**.com/watch?v=_b3KZgCKAz0**

**Unlike some of the songs I include, these might be best met AS you meet them lyrically and in this story. Just a suggestion. I don't try to suggest choreography or whatever to go with them. I want to say exactly what I mean with music. With the reader imagining how it would go. Easy enough. Readers are smart. **

* * *

The next morning, Quinn felt like she was she was having an emotional hangover, something she was quite used to. She'd stayed up doing her damned journal and it felt like rinse and repeat. She kept thinking and feeling and doing the same things. Of course, she wasn't necessarily expecting a miracle cure after six visits to her shrink. She immediately called herself on that thought. Liar. She wanted one pill she could take.

What a mess. Dr. Southerland had not been particularly surprised when Quinn had told her that she and Rachel had decided to begin dating. She'd seemed slightly amused if only from the look in her eyes:

"_That's, shall we say, an…interesting development. Let's see. We've identified some of your trigger feelings involve a deep sense of unworthiness, profound insecurity, a desperate need to hide these feelings from others through a rather single-minded pursuit of popularity and control, and a religious anxiety concerning sexuality in general. We've identified many of the thoughts that create those feelings and have discussed how they, in your case, have lead you to act out habitually and maliciously as a protective mechanism? Is that fair so far?"_

_Quinn had nodded._

"_Okay. As you've described your past romantic relationships? The young men involved have seemed malleable for reasons of intellect or sexual interest in you, which kept them at a certain controllable distance, correct?"_

_"Yes."_

"_You've entered into a romantic relationship with the person you feel perhaps most deeply unworthy of, someone who triggers all of your insecurities about your past behavior, someone who is _not _popular but who is certainly as intelligent, controlling, talented and driven as you are and happens to be the first person you've ever felt sexually attracted to?" _

"_That's about the long and short of it, yes. Short in her case. But that doesn't mean I don't love her and I won't stop dating her!"_

_The doctor had smiled. "I thought nothing of the sort and wouldn't ask that of you. I'm actually sure your feelings for her are quite sincere, although very mixed as they're bound to be. But prepare yourself for a bumpy ride, Quinn. She is everything I would warn you against at this point in your therapy. But oddly enough, sometimes people prefer to do it the hard way and sometimes that's what works best for them." _

She snorted at the memory. Bumpy described it. As she dressed herself, she felt a general anxiety about how Rachel would be this morning—if things would be different between them. As if Rachel had read her mind, her cell buzzed.

**Rachel Berry: What are you wearing? :)**

**Quinn Fabray: You didn't catch me in my underwear so the same thing I wear every day of my school life**

**Rachel Berry: Oh, good. I love that look on you**

**Quinn Fabray: You hate my uniform**

**Rachel Berry: I'm learning a tiny bit of fear is an aphrodisiac**

**Quinn Fabray: You're afraid of me? :(**

**Rachel Berry: Not in the least. But you should be afraid of what I'm wearing**

**Quinn Fabray: I'm trembling**

**Rachel Berry: As you should—see you in a few, xo, baby**

**Quinn Fabray: XO x 100**

* * *

Rachel hadn't been lying. Her black skirt was incredibly short even for her but she was wearing her unicorn sweater.

"Goodness, Rachel. You were right. I _am _experiencing sartorial fear."

Rachel grabbed Quinn's bag as she always did, "This is your punishment for being a brat last night."

"Is that what we're calling being a raging possessive bitch now?"

"Yes."

As the settled into the car, Rachel continued to talk at top speed, "I worked on my journal last night and while I know you're going through a therapeutic experience that's often painful for you? And please understand that I'd never negate or diminish your feelings and of course you may discuss them with me if you feel that would be helpful to you? I am merely choosing, from my side of this, to think of your behavior as bratty. As is my right. You're working on you—I'm working on me. We're in this together but as long as we resolve things as we did last night, civilly and without and I repeat, _without_ your causing me inappropriate pain? I can choose to think of what happened in a way that reduces my anxiety and allows me to be a loving and reassuring girlfriend, rather than someone who would look for signs all day in fear of its repetition. So that is my reasoning and that is why you deserve this unicorn."

"I don't know about that, Rachel. It's all win for me. Nobody rocks a unicorn like you."

Rachel tilted her head, "That sounded slightly salacious. I'm quite aware that unicorns, as do horses in general, have a history of phallic symbolism and of course, given the nature of our relationship that wasn't what I intended at all. I'm just aware that you hate this sweater as you've made abundantly clear in the past and that's why—"

Quinn put two gentle fingers on Rachel's mouth, "Shhh. I love your unicorn. And you're still a little anxious around me today, aren't you."

Rachel nodded.

"Scale? O-100?"

"About a 65?"

"Before my meltdown last night?"

"Maybe 25?"

"Fuck. I'm sorry."

"Apology already accepted. You were a brat. Having never been one in my life, brats make me anxious."

Quinn gaped, "You just said that out loud and God didn't strike you?"

Rachel smiled, "You love me. Admit it."

"I worship you like a pagan god."

"Then kiss me."

The kiss was short and tender and Quinn said, "Are we actually going to school today?"

"It's an unfortunate reality."

* * *

Santana took one look at Rachel and Quinn walking down the hall, saw things were just a little tense, but felt okay enough to say, "Payback's a bitch, Q. She won a nice unicorn, didn't she, hobby?"

Brittany smiled, "Totally. It's like my favorite after the owl."

"May I remind you that you have threatened to burn it, along with my owl with me in it, Santana Lopez?"

"Please, midge. Like that's not almost a love letter from me?"

"It's not really—she sends me love letters, though."

"OhmyGod. Britts?"

"They're super sweet—San always puts stickers on them but it's sort of weird because we totally almost live together anyay. So she can't mail them because that would be dumb so she hides them. Once I found one in a shoe. But you know what? Once Lord Tubbington lost one of his fur mouse toys and I couldn't find it and then I put on this shoe I hadn't worn in like days and I felt fur in my shoe and I totally screamed and San came running out of the shower and everybody in my family ran to help me too and so they all saw her naked."

Quinn smiled at Santana, "I love Lord Tubbington right now, Ms. Lopez."

"Me too," Rachel said.

"Me too, right? Because San's totally hot but my dad covered my little sister and brother's eyes and my mom covered my dad's eyes. So no biggie."

Santana just waved one hand, "My cue. Outta here. Kids to scare the fuck out of and all that shit."

* * *

It took about two classes before Kurt approached Quinn at her locker. Quinn took one look into his triumphant, knowing face and said, "I see. Finn's talked. What do you have to say to me?" Kurt had expected Quinn to react somehow differently than she was. This was major dish—major dish he knew she knew he had on her. She looked him over and repeated coolly, "Did you hear me? What do you have to say?"

The fact that dish didn't necessarily scare the B out of the HBIC punctured his attitude slightly. "To be fair to him, Quinn, Finn didn't speak to me but his voice carries loudly in the house and I happened to overhear him discussing certain things with Puck."

"How amazingly convenient for you. And? What?"

He stepped closer and said quietly, "How does it feel?"

"What?"

"To be gay like me."

She looked at him and half-laughed before hissing, "I am _not _gay like you."

"Oh? Sorry. Denial this quick?"

She looked around the hall, then continued in a low whisper, "I'm not denying being gay. You've known you were gay since you were a toddler. I haven't. How does it feel? To go through being pregnant for a really huge case of denial? Or living a lie for years and abusing people and especially the one person you're in love with because you're too stupid to know how you feel? You don't know a thing about being gay like me. Don't presume too much, Hummel, because suddenly we're 'all up in the gay and Glee club' together. Don't fuck with me. And if you know what's good for you? I can promise you San will come down even harder than I will if you fuck with Rachel."

"I wouldn't do that."

"Good to know. Wise choice."

"Quinn. When I approached you, I wasn't trying to be—okay I _was_ but I apologize. I do…actually…I do know someone gay like you, Quinn. He acts the way you do."

"Then you should hate him all you want. He deserves to be hated. I know I do. We're through. Leave please."

He saw in her eyes that any attempt of kindness on his part would be perceived as pity and Quinn wasn't in the mood. He turned and left, wondering at the fact he'd been too involved in his own pain to never have seen the same miserable, haunted look in both Quinn and David's faces.

* * *

He rang Mercedes immediately and said, "I have to be quick. No matter what, Mercedes? At lunch? In Glee? If you hear something that gets your Spidey sense tingling or surprises you? Something you and I would usually gloat over and say snarky things about? Keep your mouth shut."

"What? Hell to the no. 411. Now."

"I can't now. You'll see. DO NOT. PLEASE. I'll explain later."

"You're leaving me hanging, girlfriend."

"There's a reason."

"Better be good."

"I can't say more. Just please."

He rang off and she said to no one, "Just damn."

* * *

Finn saw Rachel approaching him in the hallway on her way to class and she acknowledged him with a slight nod of her head. He actually took a few steps back and said, "Rach. Could you just stand there for a second?"

She stopped and he took a few more steps back. "I have to keep my distance, even like in the hall, from you for a while because it's sort of fair because of how I acted—like your dad said. But I wanted to say I'm really sorry and maybe, like, after time goes by you'll see I'm a good enough person to be your friend again. I'm really, really sorry."

"I completely accept your apology, Finn. I sincerely mean that. But I am not ready to resume a friendship with you, in any sense. I do thank you for keeping a physical distance from me. That's appropriate and gives me hope that you're sincere. We will naturally have to work with each other in Glee. But if I must stand next to you or sing with you or to you or we have to touch each other in choreography, it won't mean anything has changed. It means nothing. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I understand."

"Thank you, Finn. I will see you in Glee."

"Yeah."

* * *

Lunch was odd.

Tina, Mike, Artie, Matt and Sam were sitting with Mercedes and Kurt everyone at the table could tell their resident gossip hounds were keeping eagle eyes on the Cheerio table.

Finn wandered up to the table and said, "Mind if I sit here?"

Artie said, "Why? Not hangin' with the dope kids no mo, bro?"

"Not so much."

"Take a seat, Finn. We're happy to have you."

Everyone thought Kurt was overstating that a bit but they accepted it.

Tina watched the tension in the table change as they ate and finally said, "Excuse me? But what's going on?"

"_Nothing_," Finn, Kurt, and to their surprise, Sam said at the same time.

Matt, who spoke nearly as frequently as a rock, said, "No seriously. What's up?" Mike, who was slightly less rock-like, although not in the abs, agreed, "Yeah. Something's up."

Sam said, "Just stuff, I guess. It's nothing."

"But you know this stuff and won't spill the milk?"

"Mercedes? What did I ask you?"

"Fine. I'll work it out."

"It's nothing—and it's nobody's business," Sam said.

"Sam's right, Mercedes. It's nothing," Finn agreed.

"If it's getting us all weird up in here, seems like it's our business."

"I told you, Mercedes! Leave it alone!"

"Why?"

"Finn? Sam? Thank you for being civil. I'll go sit elsewhere."

To their surprise, he just crossed the lunchroom and sat by himself.

Artie said, "The lady doth protest too much."

"Shut up, Artie."

"_You_ ran him off, 'Cedes."

That was true and she knew it. She watched Kurt as he resumed his lunch, then suddenly stopped eating, stood and crossed the floor, tossing the whole thing, including the tray in a trashcan.

* * *

At another table, Puck had joyfully joined the four girls he loved best. "Now this is more like it! Four girls, one Puck!"

"Pig."

"You know you love me, Quinn and what we got today, my sweet bi-curious Jew?"

"I'll have you know I'm not at all just curious or wondering. Not anymore."

Quinn smiled at her sandwich as Puck begged, "Oh please, please please give me details. I brought a trade. I have this crazy dish that's actually pretty good—it's like wheat noodles with vegan pesto."

"A contradiction in terms, Noah. Pesto is made with Parmesan cheese—not vegan cheese substitute."

"And tofurkey is made with what—real furkey?"

"That was a surprisingly astute rejoinder on your part. I will trade you for my veggie burger that I assure you will astonish you. It is very hearty because I made it just for you. I will not give you the ingredients because they would not only alarm you as an omnivore, it is a private recipe. But it has been heated properly, as I hope you've heated mine."

"Yep. Let's trade and let's hear the details. Not food. Sex."

Santana leaned forward to listen but Brittany just grinned.

Rachel kissed Puck on the shoulder, "Never, Noah. Not about my baby."

He said, "Just please say at least you've done the deed. I'm dyin' here," but he winked at Quinn, who smiled at him.

"Never."

"Whatever—I'll find out. A few wine-coolers at a party with Rach—and—"

"You'd be six feet under, Puckerman," Quinn growled although she knew they were both kidding.

"No lie," Santana agreed.

Brittany nodded. "For reals? You'd be lying in a shallow grave, Puck. Sorry about that. I'm not so nice. Like the way people talk about the 60s? I dig music and dancing—but not digging graves. I mean I'd only do three feet deep tops for someone who hurt Rach. Or you could call that three feet bottom? I know that sounds dirty, like sexy dirty and like real dirt—I understand that too."

"Damn, Britts! Whoa? Easy up."

"Sorry but seriously? No mean meant but I do know stuff, Puck. Can I taste the burger?"

He nodded vigorously. "None taken and I feel completely served. Sure." He'd took a gigantic bite and happily handed it to Brittany as he chewed. "Ffffuck. You can't say that doesn't have meat in it, Rachel!"

Brittany took a bite and handed it back to Puck, "It _is_ super good, Rach."

"It does not have meat or meat products involved in its recipe. I will only say that shredded beets are involved."

"Beets?"

"Yes, Noah, I'm sure you've nudged them off your plate when your mother has attempted to feed them to you."

Brittany thought about that. "Totally makes sense. Beets? Meat?"

Santana glared at Puck who was now smirking in complete bliss and said, "Don't say it, Puck."

He held up his hands in innocence. "What? Beets meat? You need to chill, Santana."

"Chill, motherfucker? I can cool ya…"

Rachel perked up excitedly. "Cool ya? Oh! I know that idiom only from the song _Poison Ivy_ by The Coasters in which 'cool ya' means to kill you."

Santana looked as if there were a migraine on the way. "Finally? We understand each other, Frodo."

"Can't we all just get along?" Brittany's said. Her voice was monotone.

They looked at her in a way that meant they thought they'd done something maybe sadly damaging to her before she said. "I'm so totally kidding. I know what masturbation is. I'm not, like, five. Can we shut up? Let's eat lunch."

Everyone immediately nodded.

* * *

As they left the lunch room, Kurt pulled Rachel aside in the hall and said. "I'd been planning to sing a certain song for a boy who doesn't care for me—look at my sheet music?"

She looked at it, suspiciously, but said, "Yes."

"Yes? What do you mean by yes?"

"I know the song. You do?"

"Of course I do. What does it mean to you?"

"What it does. I'd sing it with you. We're naturals. We don't need practice. Just sing. For him, even if he's not here or can't hear."

"I thought so," Kurt smiled, "We don't have to out her, Rachel. We can sing it for her."

"She won't like it."

"She will because you have a perfect voice and I do too and we won't pretend it's for her?"

* * *

When they got to Glee, Will could feel from the vibe in the room something very serious was going on even as he said, "Okay? We've got to work on a new assignment. Any ideas?"

Kurt stood and said, "Nothing new but I'd personally like Rachel to sing something I've always liked?"

She glared at him. It was supposed to be a duet!

"Great—let's hear it! Will was always grateful when his kids brought something in.

Kurt handed out the sheet music and Puck immediately grabbed his guitar before Rachel stood in front of the club and sang it to the wall.

_I'll be your mirror_

_Reflect what you are, in case you don't know_

_I'll be the wind, the rain and the sunset_

_The light on your door to show that you're home_

_When you think the night has seen your mind_

_That inside you're twisted and unkind_

_Let me stand to show that you are blind_

_Please put down your hands_

_'Cause I see you_

_I find it hard to believe you don't know_

_The beauty that you are_

_But if you don't let me be your eyes_

_A hand in your darkness, so you won't be afraid_

_When you think the night has seen your mind_

_That inside you're twisted and unkind_

_Let me stand to show that you are blind_

_Please put down your hands_

_'Cause I see you_

_I'll be your mirror_

And when it was over, everyone except Will knew something had happened he didn't understand.

"That was great! What's next?"

Sam stood up. "Santana and I have been working on a version of_ Rico Suav_e."

"Sam? Uh, malfunction?"

He winked at her.

Got it. Take the pressure off the midge and the cap.

"That was a mistake, Mr. Schue. Sam only thought I'd practiced that song and would perform it with him because his dealer cut his drugs with weed killer."

This was obviously or really hopefully a joke so Will said brightly, "Any other ideas?"

Kurt stood. "I have one. Made famous by many but I love the Blossom Dearie's version best."

He handed out the sheet music in which he'd crossed out every male reference, had made them all feminine, and began to sing after he gave the band a chance to peruse it. His singing for a woman-for her-moved Rachel more than she could say. And it was beautiful.

_My height, just average_

_My weight, just average_

_And my IQ is like you'd estimate, just average_

_But evidently she does not agree_

_Consequently if I seem at sea_

_It amazes me_

_It simply amazes me_

_What she sees in me dazzles me_

_Dazes me_

_That I've learned to clip my wings_

_And soften my ways_

_These are ordinary things unworthy of praise_

_Yet she praises me  
_

_Just knowing I try for her_

_When so many would,_

_If they could, die for her_

_I'm the one who's worldly wise_

_And nothing much fazes me_

_But to see me in her eyes_

_It just amazes me_

Kurt just looked at the floor before the last verse.

_I'm the one who's worldly wise_

_And nothing much fazes me_

_But to see me in her eyes_

_It just amazes me_

Everyone was a little nonplussed before they all clapped.

And then the penny finally dropped.

Mercedes said, "Oh for the love of God—don't tell me everybody else is taking solos up in here because you're coming out, Quinn, because then I'm gonna have to cut you for real."

Quinn shrugged, "You could come out too, Mercedes. We're all lovers here—not haters."

And then Mercedes looked at Quinn, who was actually really her friend in a way, and she began to laugh. And everyone paused to make sure it was real before they laughed as well.

**A/N That's what I have you for now although it's sort of a two parter in a sense as a chapter. My eyes-they burn, so tomorrow.**

**Oh dear, I just realized some of you might not know Nico was actually certainly no real singer but was a seminal part of the Velvet Underground. I'm not suggesting Rachel would sing it this way. At all. The lyrics are the point.  
**


	41. Chapter 41

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**A/N: Thanks, as always for your reading and for your reviews. I do appreciate them all. By the way, another reminder—this is AU and to put it quite genteelly? You'd have to look far and wide for all the f*cks I give about when Regionals are/were, technically, as far as the weather's concerned. Or the canon relationships compared to that timeline. And you could look? But you wouldn't find them.**

**All WMHS. Rachel slaps Glee and Mercedes pulls another Finn. **

* * *

After the laughter stopped, Quinn felt her stomach turn but she said, "True story. I'm gay. So? Can we move along? Nothing to see here."

Rachel rested her head on Quinn's shoulder. "Except she's my girlfriend."

Quinn rolled her eyes but kissed the side of Rachel's head, "That, too."

Before Will could say anything because he felt concussed by the fact his club's main antagonists were now dating, Kurt lied, "Yes. They're dating and Quinn and I have talked about this at length and we believe that keeping this information strictly between we members of Glee for the time being would be for the best. Being gay in high school is difficult enough without the extra excitement caused by seeing two people dating who've had a, shall we say, notoriously difficult past. We agreed it would be a something of a double cannon ball in the school gossip pool."

Quinn shook her head at this bit of fabricated news but smiled back at him. "Kurt, that almost sounded like Rachel. Count that as a compliment. Except for the cannon ball. I don't think Rach would—"

"I resent that, Quinn. I'm familiar with many cultural idioms, which this wasn't strictly, although I must applaud Kurt's use of a cannon ball in the sense of the ball dive into a metaphorical pool. That was clever."

Brittany added, which made no sense to the rest of them, "It's all true. Rach uses idioms all the time on our sub to fix stuff. I couldn't ask for a better CO. And I'm the captain, which is, like, totally cool."

Will had no idea what Brittany was talking about but tried to pick up the ball and run with it. "Okay. What's next, team?"

"Mr. Schue?"

"Yes, Mercedes?"

"I feel like I need to say something to everyone."

He hesitated because only Rachel was more unpredictable than Mercedes, although in a fairly predictable way.

"Okay."

She stood up and faced the club. "I've been fallin' down on the job. I was being all 'isn't it sweet with the dish me and Kurt were talking about Quinn and Rachel, okay?' And now I know that it's really true? Kurt? I gotta admit you came correct. You acted like real people act. But I guess I've been wanting to get mine back for a long, long time, right? I told Rachel we could put all this diva stuff behind us. But a part of me liked knowing some sort of dish would make you worse off than me, Rachel."

"Worse off than you? _Me?_ You're kidding, surely. I'm pond scum in this school."

"I mean less talented than me, Rachel."

"You _are_ less talented."

Mercedes stood and rushed toward her and Santana, Brittany and Puck leapt up and stood between them.

"Damn, people! I wasn't actually gonna hit the girl."

"_Such_ a wise decision on your part, Mercedes," Quinn said from her seat. "But you don't step into Rachel's space to intimidate her, either. I can promise it won't go well for you."

"Quinn's right. That's really not cool, Mercedes, and the results suck, believe me," Finn offered, "Please sit back down."

Mercedes glared at them but did take her seat, as did the others.

Rachel continued, "I don't necessarily mean vocally, although we are different stylistically. We've discussed this so I'm surprised we have to again. I mean that you don't want to do the work. I always do the work."

"I was trying to apologize, Rachel."

"And just like at my house, I heard no actual apology to me but rather a preface of your offering excuses for your behavior."

Mercedes stared at Rachel and said, "Alright, that's true. I'm sorry I've been throwing so much attitude your way but, yeah, I'll defend myself. _You _throw attitude all over the place, too."

"Your point? How would you survive if you were me? This is my one thing. And I'll protect it because, until very recently, not one person in this school would protect _me_ even physically, much less my music. Not one teacher. Not one student."

"Okay. Fine. I'm sorry, Rachel. Apology accepted?"

"That was certainly concise and not particularly heartfelt in my estimation but of course. You know me. I'll take you at your word. You've shared post-apology ice cream and movies with me. I'm forgiving by nature."

"Look who's she's dating, Mercedes," Quinn said.

Mercedes looked from Rachel to Quinn and back, "Yeah, about that? That's a little fu—whack."

"Thank you for that completely unsolicited opinion about our relationship, Mercedes, but although you're high school-minded enough to think that nothing is private and everything's your business? Ours is actually none of yours. And speaking of business? Could we please get back to the business of Glee?"

Will nodded and stabbed his pen in the air, "Great idea, Rachel. Any thoughts about working up some songs for Regionals?"

Everyone looked around at each other and then they all finally focused on Rachel, who felt it and said, "Remember my new rule? I haven't been asked so I'm not speaking and beside that, I'd rather hear the ideas of my other club members who, I'm quite sure, have taken time out of every day to give serious consideration about how best to represent ourselves in competition. Instead of…oh wait…counting on me to do it for them and then scorning me and showing me complete discourtesy when I offer my ideas. And, with no disrespect intended, you're one of the people who treat me that way as well, Mr. Schue. That said, I'm all ears. I can't wait to be dazzled with what you've all come up with."

"Bitter much?"

"Again? Thank you for your unsolicited opinion, Mercedes. Actually, I'm not bitter. But I _am_ through with being bullied—at least in this club, where I should, one would think by all rights, feel safe, but frankly never have. This has always been just another enemy camp at school. But, as the teen vernacular goes? Whatever. Let's hear it. What smarmy, turgid 80s ballad and ridiculous 90s rock song you imagine seem stirring and relevant but in actuality only sound so to people who are tone-deaf or completely without taste shall we sing? Let's hear your suggestions."

Everyone stared at her but Santana jumped up, grabbed Rachel in her seat, cupped her ear and whispered, "If I weren't engaged and you weren't Quinn's woman? I would fuck you so hard right now in the janitor's closet _just_ for saying that. Thank you!"

No one could hear what she'd said but as she released Rachel, the girl laughed and said, "The closet? We seem to keep meeting each other that way, Santana."

Santana winked at her, "You keep bringing it, and I'll pop it right back, _ese_."

"As I have been schooled quite persuasively by someone in the know, I am not Mexican and neither are you."

"Actually, listening to you get your swerve on? Girl? You might not be bringing the Mex, but I'm totally feeling some Latin in ya right now."

Rachel waved a dismissive hand as she'd seen Santana do so often, "I know you _wish_ you were feeling some Latin in me."

Santana thought about that for two seconds and blushed in shock as she almost squeaked, "Rachel!"

Quinn watched this exchange and said, "You've slapped me many a time, Lopez, but I _will_ punch you in the head so hard you'll wake up next week. Remember _me_? _Quinn_? The girl with anger issues?"

"Sorry cap. It was totes a joke but Rach took it a little—"

"Santana!"

"How about Regionals!" Santana said.

"Great idea!" Will said, although he'd been as riveted as the club by what he had no idea was going on.

* * *

People did offer suggestions and Rachel remained mute about them unless specifically asked. It had the effect on them Rachel intended but another that, even as Quinn watched, knew her girlfriend didn't really understand. She realized Rachel had a fairly large blind spot about exactly how her overbearing attitude went over with people. When she gave her opinion only when asked, it not only made Rachel feel like she was winning, the club listened to what she was _saying_ instead of responding to her attitude. For once, even Will listened and he was surprised to find she was actually reasonable, which perhaps, he had to admit to himself, she always had been.

"Finn? I think that's an excellent suggestion and certainly a possibility for Tina and you or perhaps Sam as a duet. I don't think the song suits my voice and this isn't personal, I promise you. I truly appreciate your bringing such a thoughtful selection but it's been too long since Tina had the spotlight."

"Matt. While that is certainly a quite compelling song and I appreciate your thought behind it, it would be a group choreography number, naturally. Although I'm sure that you and Mike and Brittany would create a brilliant piece, I don't believe it's strong enough as a song vocally that it would be a choice. I would, however, love to do it in the club because it would make us stronger as a dance unit, which many of us need, me included. It's really a wonderful suggestion."

"Quinn, I know you suggested that to make me want to strangle you but I won't because I love you."

"Mercedes? I'm startled. A song chosen specifically and obviously for you. It's a good one. A strong contender. Go for it."

"Mike? I think that would be a brilliant song for Finn and Quinn. I think we should try that as another strong contender for the duet selection."

She laughed at Kurt, "I suppose we know who the divas are in the room. Yes, that would be wonderful for you."

"Sam, thank you! Perfect for Santana. Very strong for the solo."

"Lauren, that would be perfect for a Noah solo or perhaps as a duet between you two."

It went like that for nearly the whole of the hour before Brittany said, "How about you Rach?"

"I have no songs to add and absolutely no interest in performing in Regionals except as a back up singer and dancer. But I'm your captain and I'm certainly happy and willing to help Mr. Schue get us in tip-top competitive form. I believe that's all you need from me and of course, if any of you has a case of strep throat on the day of the competition, I will have learned every part, as would be responsible of me and be able to fill in. Other than that, I think this was a very successful first cut at a tentative song list, don't you, Mr. Schue?"

Will was so shocked it took him a second before he replied, "You don't want to sing?"

"Of course. I'll sing back ups."

"Not a solo? A duet?"

"No thank you. And before Mercedes says what I know she will as soon as I leave the room, this is not a case of payback or my attempting to have you beg me to sing. As much as I love to perform, I'll simply let those who need to do it now, do it now. I don't have to. It's going to be my career." She stood and smiled down at Quinn as she took the girl's book-bag, "Ready baby?"

Quinn was as shocked as the rest of them but said, "Sure."

No one followed them out, not even Santana and Brittany. No one, oddly enough, except Matt.

* * *

Matt called after them, "Rachel, Quinn?"

They were so staggered that he could say anything but "No, TWO steps left, ONE step right," that they blinked at him. He stepped close to them and said, "I just want to tell you something. That was really brave, coming out to the club like that today, okay?"

All those words. From Matt. They were too stunned to speak so they only nodded.

"I just sort of wanted to say what you did gave me the bravery to tell you first."

Quinn and Rachel's eyebrows shot up but it was Quinn who whispered, "You're gay, too?"

He looked around the hall and then whispered, "No…but...this is hard for me to say but see...the thing is? You won't believe it...but I'm black."

The completely delighted mischief in his eyes made Rachel say, "You're _black_? No way. You _must_ be kidding us."

"I know, right? Because who knew? I mean, I've tried and tried and tried, believe me to Jesus, to keep it on the DL but what's the point? Not anymore. Here I am—just like God made me. I'm black—I'm proud—get used to it, right? Just like you. Thanks, ladies."

And Matt found himself in a situation he'd never imagined because he was too shy even in his imagination, being hugged by a girl he had a very secret crush on and by the head cheerleader of William McKinley High School.

* * *

Meanwhile, when the door had closed behind them, Sam said, "Thank you SO much, Mercedes Diana Ross. Now our very best singer's officially one of your Supremes. I hope you're frackin' happy."

Kurt's eyes popped. Who would have thought Sam would know the sordid history of Diana Ross and the Supremes? His gaydar was instantly reactivated.

Mercedes, who was a little horrified by what had just happened but didn't want to admit it, said, "Please, bitch. I didn't do a thing."

"Language!"

"Sorry, Mr. Schue. But, serious up? What did I do? Rachel suddenly got a case of 'I forgot to wear my big girl panties' today and it's all on me? Please."

Will didn't respond. He was more horrified than Mercedes and also trying not to show it.

Brittany's voice was sad and monotone, "It's easy what you did, Mercedes. We need Rachel totally more than she needs us. You probably didn't know you were doing it but all that stuff you always say? You kept reminding her and kept reminding her, like all the time, until she understood. So now she understands. It's happened to me tons of times when people make fun of me because I'm dumb. Like suddenly? One day? I understand. But then I'm not mad or anything. It's just like I think—'oh, so that's how you really feel about me? I get it now.' That's what's going on with Rach. She gets it now. But she's totally being cool to stay in the club and help."

Everyone nodded and Mercedes noted that Santana had crossed her arms and was tapping one foot. Which meant oh fuck in the language of Lopez.

"My baby sorta put it in a nutshell. And I don't think we can fix this with a lovefest for my hobbit. But you're so, so, so on my list, Mercedes. I won't hurt you because my hobbit and my baby wouldn't let me but you are on my list not to make life easy for. You don't need to wear a poncho. Nobody's going to call you names, like Rachel's suffered forever—and hell yeah, from even and especially me but at least I can see a self-righteous bitch when I see her in the mirror—and you obviously can't see shit. And I'm sorry Mr. Schue but tough times? Tough talk. You, girl? You're stuck all up in some fantasy world where when you don't get your way it's always someone else's fault. Why? So the fuck whatever you're black? You're an upper middle class girl with a damn fine house, car, phone, computer, education, weave, whatever. What color am I? What color is Rachel? What color is Matt? What color are Tina and Mike and okay that's a bad example because Mike's messed up with the Asian shit, with no disrespect, my Asian brotha."

"I tell you what your problem is, Mercedes. It's just what Rachel said. You want the world to scour through millions of people while you sit on your ass talking shit about how you never get yours. You want the world, like the Clearinghouse Sweepstakes, to show up on your doorstep while you're lazing around eating tots and whining about black this, don't get that. That Jewish American princess got this and you didn't. And suddenly—out of nowhere, the world will put a glass slipper on your foot and you'll be Princess Mercedes. Meanwhile Rachel would fucking shovel coal and actually is every day, thank you, to find her own damned glass slipper to put on her own fucking foot. You're a fantastic singer but you're going to be a Lima loser unless you lose this attitude. And I promise I can make you feel it. And Quinn? Will make you feel it more. You hurt our hobbit and our club with your constant whining and things can get mighty frosty with us without getting ugly."

Will sort of had to agree with Santana's assessment but said, "There's no need to make threats, Santana."

"I'm not threatening her, Mr. Schue. I'm telling her that her popularity points with me and Quinn just dropped below zero."

"Me too," Brittany said, "She hurt my CO. I sort of want to cry right now."

"Oh—see? And wait for it? You hurt Brittany, Mercedes."

Everyone stifled a groan. That was sort of the end-all.

"If I may?"

"Yes, Kurt?"

"Although I know Mercedes has often been, so to speak, a straw and perhaps added the last straw that broke Rachel's back, most of us have not treated Rachel kindly in the past including you, Mr. Schue. We can't heap all the blame on her."

Will shook his head, "That's true. I think we all need to consider how we treat each other and I'll certainly consider and amend my own actions."

"Just a word to the wise?"

"Yes, Santana?"

"Frodo's not putting up with a tidal wave of love. It'll look as phony as it is. Just let's try to accept and deal with where she is right now. Whatcha think Britts?"

"Totally. And you think I'm being dumb and just agreeing but I know Rach better than most of you."

And with that the meeting ended.

* * *

Mercedes was sorting through her locker and thinking, hard, about the last hour and so she didn't hear Brittany approaching her before she was right beside her. She was alone, which was strange and she grinned at Mercedes in a very odd way.

"Hi."

"Hi, Brittany. What's up?"

"Nothing, really. I just had one thing to tell you and one thing to ask you."

Mercedes' pulse jumped. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. What I wanted to tell you is that I've always really, really liked you, Mercedes. You have a super pretty voice and you're really pretty and you've always been pretty much nice to me and I hope I've been acting just as nice right back."

Mercedes nodded, "For sure. You've always been really nice."

"Okay. That was what I had to say. This is my question. This high school is really big and it's full of scary people." She shrugged, "I'm friends with some of the scariest and like who doesn't know that, right? But look at me—and answer my question? Who's the super worst person you could hurt or make mad at you in this whole entire school? If you wanted the worst stuff to happen to you? Really? Like for real?"

Mercedes looked up into Brittany's innocent cornflower blue eyes and swallowed before she said, "You."

"Right! See! Everyone's smarter than me. It could have taken me two or three guesses but you only needed one. I guess what I want to say is that I really like you so don't make me angrier with you, please. Because I'm acting just sad like for everyone else but I am super, super angry with you right now. Like you don't know how much but I won't tell anyone that. Because I wouldn't be happy if anyone knew. You wouldn't be either."

She turned and walked away before Mercedes could respond.

* * *

As Rachel drove Quinn home, Quinn asked, "Want to talk about it?"

"What, baby?"

"Uh…not singing?"

"I gave my reasons. I can back up today and be a star tomorrow."

"Is this because of what Ms. Sokoll said because—"

"No! It's not. It's just true. I know where I'm going. I don't need anyone's help. Of course I'm no fool and will take her help if she wants to give it but what she said to me meant a lot more than vague promises. I bet you thought I focused on Juilliard and Broadway but what I really took away from it was to really, really believe that it will happen and just live my life. And that I can have art and love and life now and I don't have to have one petty fight after another over one four minute solo in high school."

"But that's not like you."

"Or maybe it's like me when I feel confident, secure physically and emotionally and deeply loved. You've never seen me that way."

"If you pulled the car over, I promise you Officer Miller would have to pry us apart again."

"Speaking of? This never-ever date of ours?"

For a few weeks, they'd gone to lunches and dinners that Quinn had always paid for but none of them Quinn would deem their first date. She'd said the majesty of their first date needed time and a certain amount of planning that involved other people. Which made Rachel react like a bull-pup on a steak bone and Quinn found adorable. She wouldn't let up with her questioning but Quinn had never budged on the details.

"Right. About that. The venue's settled. This Friday. The weather's perfect. You'll have to wear something with layers. We'll eat at a restaurant that will not be Breadstix but then we'll be outside for a couple of hours."

"Outside?"

"Yes, outside. I know you've heard of it? It's like inside—but the inverse?"

"Why date smart women if this is what you get?"

"Remember? No women. _Woman_. I have insecurity issues."

"I'm going to have your name tattooed on my face if you don't stop. As if I want anyone beside you. So where outside?"

"GPS coordinates?"

"Please."

"No. Because I so know you'd do that. But I will tell you it will involve two members of your former therapist's family."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!"

"And you the Jew!"

"What does that even mean?"

"You'll see."

"Tell me I'm not actually having romantic time with my former therapist's family."

"Of a sort. You'll see. No perversion ahead, I promise. And your anxiety will about that will go down to about 15 when you see what I mean. It's just going to be me and the stars and something I think you'll really love."

"If you say so."

"Would I lie?"

Silence.

"Okay, right. Except about the paternity of a child."

"That's not what I was thinking."

"What were you thinking?"

"How to Google my doctor's family—and how long it would take to connect the dots."

"Forever. They aren't on Google and why not trust me?"

"I will but you're going to have to kiss me five times at home."

"Make it ten?"

"Ten and we'll be in bed."

"Your problem with that?"

"No problem. Logistically and emotionally speaking? It would be awkward for your mother to walk in on us yet again, much less the first time we made love."

"Granted."

"Plus we're not ready."

"Granted."

"First date, though!"

"Granted. I feel like a genie or something."

"I know you make _my _wishes come true."

Quinn laughed. "That was corny but completely acceptable."

* * *

**A/N Next chapter? A rather steamy first date.**


	42. Chapter 42

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**A/N: A little Glee and then a real FIRST DATE! Yes!**

**Only one song in this between Noah and Rachel: Youtube's being a complete bitch about this one.**

**So? www period youtube period com/watch?v=EjxGlFkxzOQ&feature=related **

* * *

As days went by, it turned out that it was both easy yet not to ignore the elephant in the room. Mercedes and Finn were odd men out and, yet everyone always cooperated. Rachel stood by not singing anything except for back-up, even when asked.

It was maddening for Will to a degree. "Rachel, don't you think this song would be perfect for you?"

"Naturally. I could sing it easily but Tina or Mercedes could do it equal justice and I'd prefer for them to have the spotlight. I don't need it. Personally, I would suggest Tina for this particular piece. The other piece Mercedes brought to the table for herself is perfect for her."

He sighed, "Rachel?"

"What, Mr. Schue? I'm the captain of this Glee club and I believe I'm executing my duties as I should."

"Except for not singing."

"I'm singing back-ups and I'm fine with that but it's like you're all having a memory deficit problems. Can't we keep practicing? I'd like to help lead this club to winning Regionals and my participation as a soloist isn't necessary as has been made abundantly clear time and time again. There are other wonderful singers in this group."

"I hate it when you don't sing, Rach."

Now that was a low blow, Rachel thought. "I know that Brittany, but we've discussed it. I'll sing for you privately any time you want."

"It's not the same."

"You're right—it's a command performance. Because you're my captain! Now, let's hear Tina do this piece, shall we?"

Tina was great—as she always was but performed it twice and blew the last phrase of the last verse both times. Tina was mortified and Will tried to hide his exasperation.

Rachel stood and said, "Once more Tina and we'll start at the last verse, Brad. You're performing this perfectly but I think your problem is and with no disrespect intended, you're having solo performance anxiety. As you know, I don't have that problem at all but I do recognize it when I see it. Because of your anxiety over the last verse, which is completely understandable because it's difficult? You're breathing in the wrong place. So you're singing it this way—I'll show you."

Rachel cued Brad and quickly and flawlessly sang the last verse—but pointed to Tina when she took the last breath for the phrase and sure enough, Rachel failed as well. "That's what you're doing and no singer could do it that way. Here's where to breathe." She sang the last verse again and punched the air for Tina's attention, drawing breath two beats before Tina had and then she hit it, almost frighteningly and showily well. And then she shrugged and smiled brightly, "The last part is tricky but if you do it that way, you _will_ have both the breath and volume for that last high note and you might be our soloist!"

"But—Rachel—you just—"

"Will be singing back up and swaying behind you!"

They'd been hitting it hard all day but Tina sang it again as Rachel had instructed, completely nailed it and everyone clapped wildly.

"Thanks, Rachel."

"That's what I'm here for. You're amazing, Tina. I truly mean that."

There was time for one more number and Mr. Schue was about to suggest something but Puck jumped up and gave sheet music to the band, grabbed his guitar and said, "Jew, get over here." It was one of the rare days Rachel was wearing jeans and she clambered over to sit next to him. "You know this song, hotness?"

She looked at the music, "Of course."

"Let's do a command performance for our duckling. She's looking a little sad."

Rachel paused then said, "Fine. One for the best sub captain ever!"

Brittany brightened at this. As did Santana.

"Obvs you're the high and change the name from Johnny to Noah."

Rachel smiled at him. "Naturally. Perfect choice, by the way."

They began to play Bird Dog by the Everly Brothers and although not everyone really knew it, they sort of did. Their harmony was perfect.

_Noah is a joker (he's a bird)_

_A very funny joker (he's a bird)_

_But when he jokes my honey (he's a dog)_

_His jokin' ain't so funny (what a dog)_

_Noah is a joker that's a'tryin' to steal my honey (he's a bird dog)_

_Noah sings a love song (like a bird)_

_He sings the sweetest love song (ya ever heard)_

_But when he sings to my gal (what a howl)_

_To me he's just a wolf dog (on the prowl)_

_Noah wants to fly away and puppy-love my baby (he's a bird dog)_

_Hey, bird dog get away from my quail_

_Hey, bird dog you're on the wrong trail_

_Bird dog you better leave my lovey-dove alone_

_Hey, bird dog get away from my chick_

_Hey, bird dog you better get away quick_

_Bird dog you better find a chicken little of your own_

_Noah kissed the teacher (he's a bird)_

_He tiptoed up to reach her (he's a bird)_

_Well he's the teacher's pet now (he's a dog)_

_What he wants he's been gettin' now (what a dog)_

_He even made the teacher let him sit next to my baby (he's a bird dog)_

_Hey, bird dog get away from my quail_

_Hey, bird dog you're on the wrong trail_

_Bird dog you better leave my lovey-dove alone_

_Hey, bird dog get away from my chick_

_Hey, bird dog you better get away quick_

_Bird dog you better find a chicken little of your own_

_He's a bird dog._

As they sang, Puck and Rachel both winked at Quinn. And as she watched Rachel having so much fun with the father of her child and holding onto one of his arms fondly with her other wrapped around his shoulder as they had a little trouble singing because they were almost about to laugh at each other the entire time? Watching her girl touching the only boy she'd said she'd ever truly been sexually attracted to?

Watching this, Quinn felt something that nearly shattered her. Nothing. No anger, no anxiety, no jealousy. Just happiness. Her girlfriend singing with a friend who was truly _their_ friend. And in those minutes, as Puck and Rachel were singing a song about jealousy, she realized that something was actually finally happening beneath the waterline of the glacier that life had made her. She was getting a little bit better. She took a deep breath, smiled at them and clapped with the club at the end of the song, for an entirely different reason than the rest.

* * *

**Date night.**

Rachel had dressed in a sweater over jeans and hiking shoes as the idea of the outdoors and layering had alarmed her. Quinn had flummoxed her by demanding she don footwear she could take off easily and feel comfortable in, whether in stocking feet or bare-footed. She had put on her bright electric yellow fleece coat as she waited.

When she rang the bell and Rachel answered, Quinn took one look at the girl's coat and said, "I am _so_ glad I'll be able to find you in the snow."

It was actually quite chilly but there was no snow, so Rachel said, "Sarcasm will get you nowhere. You've already alarmed me with these instructions so I'm merely waiting for this dating-ness to begin."

"Rach. I'm going to take you to a place I know and you don't. You can take off your coat for the trip."

Rachel did so, huffily, as she said, "I doubt it. I know all."

"You do. But not this place."

After Quinn's directions, they finally pulled into the driveway of a small home.

"What's this?"

"This is our restaurant. It's the home of a Japanese couple who make dinners occasionally for special guests. It will be vegan. That's why you'll have to take your shoes off." She smiled—"Not for the vegan part—the Japanese home part. Their names are John and Mary Takahashi. They say they do this to supplement their income but I believe it's actually because they enjoy cooking, meeting people and having them share their culture."

"Oh my God, Quinn, am I dressed correctly?"

Quinn shrugged, "Look at me. I'm in jeans, too. You're my date. Let's get going."

When they rang the doorbell, a very attractive, very older couple presented themselves and bowed slightly. "You must be Rachel? I am John Takahashi and this is my wife Mary. We are honored to have you visit our home."

As they entered, Rachel nodded, feeling it wouldn't be appropriate to bow as if she understood their culture. "It's my pleasure to meet you both and to the contrary, the honor is completely mine. This is such a surprise for me."

"Excuse me, Mr. Takahashi, and thank you sincerely for your greeting." She addressed Mary with a dazzling smile, "Mrs. Takahashi, if you wouldn't mind, please walk me through not making a fool of myself. Ladies always want to look as if we know what we're doing, do we not? I apologize for the informality of my clothing. I was not told I would be visiting such a lovely home, only that I may be trekking through the outdoors later. Surprisingly enough despite my current attire, I actually do own clothes to wear for visiting new acquaintances to show them the respect they deserve. I will probably have to kill Quinn later for leading me into this social faux pas. I do, however, watch the TV show CSI so I may just get away with it. I'm nothing if not a quick study!" She beamed at them again and Quinn saw they adored her immediately.

And in that moment, watching her, Quinn knew that Rachel would definitely succeed and not just because of her talent or any help anyone might give her. She had the gift—that certain 'it." Something her Glee club members might not imagine she had and they did not. They knew that she could sing but didn't know she could be effortlessly socially charming, incredibly mature, self-deprecating and even when surprised, perfect. Her girl was perfect.

Mary laughed. "You're dressed perfectly and just as Quinn described you."

John nodded.

"I shudder to think."

"All good, believe me. Take your shoes off and we'll lead you to your dining area."

They both did and after they passed through a beautiful home that was actually quite Western in decor, John slid a screen back and it was like everything Rachel imagined about Japan. A white screened room with a low table and cushions on each side. There was very soft Japanese music playing in the background.

"This is where we dine and where you will. You are children so no _sake_ but we will bring tea with your meal."

"Thank you."

After they closed the doors, Rachel said, "This is insane, Quinn. Really! What is this costing you?"

"Not even remotely what you're worth."

"Quinn."

"Rachel. I'm in love with you. It's worth it. You're worth it. And they know the deal. I would never take you to a place that was unfriendly to our love."

"But this is so"…Rachel looked around the room…"So…"

"Special?"

"Yes."

"My intention, my love. And just wait. The food will be phenomenal. And you've got a huge surprise after."

"I hate surprises!"

"You love surprises, Rachel."

"Well…perhaps. That may be true."

"I love you, Rachel."

Rachel looked into Quinn's eyes and reveled in this spare insanely perfect and romantic Japanese place she'd arranged for them. "I love you more."

"Not possible."

The food was beyond fantastic. It was also beautiful. When the couple brought their appetizers, Rachel gasped and smiled at them, "Mr. and Mrs. Takahashi, you certainly can't expect us to eat works of art!"

"There are a number of reasons for elaborate presentations of cuisine in our culture. One that I most appreciate is that it shows a measure of respect to present what nourishes us as what it is. To be nourished is beautiful."

Rachel nodded respectfully, even as Mrs. Takahashi said with a wink of her eye, "I have said this but your next course will be a soup that you will slurp out of the bowls without spoons. This, too, is very Japanese. Enjoy."

As they were left alone, Rachel said, "I have to take a picture of this food before I eat it. I can _not_ believe it."

Quinn smiled. Perfect.

They slurped their way through soup and when the main courses came in, Rachel gasped again, completely enthralled. Because Mr. Takahashi could see Rachel was deeply interested, he took a few minutes to explain the ingredients, many of which Rachel had never encountered.

"We believe you will enjoy it, Rachel."

"I'm sure I will. This is the best meal I've ever had."

"Thank you for saying so."

Rachel took another picture before they ate.

At the end of the meal they stood and following the Takahashi's into their front room.

Rachel said, "I don't know how to bow in a way that's appropriate culturally but please know that I am bowing to you in my heart. That was the most amazing meal I've ever had and you made it even more phenomenal by serving it in your amazing home and with such love. I can't tell you what that means to me."

Mary said, "Might I ask you something? It is an imposition I know before I ask and John will be angry but we ladies get our way."

"Anything."

"Quinn tells us you are a very great singer."

Rachel answered as an adult, which made Quinn's head swim, "I know I should feign modesty, which might be closer to your culture as I understand it and also to mine, frankly, as a woman, but it would be foolish for me to pretend I am not. Yes. I am."

From their expressions, Quinn saw Rachel had yet again hit the right note.

John shook his head as he said, "No. Do not ask her to sing. It will seem like the girl is singing for her supper, Mary!"

Rachel smiled and said, "With respect, Mr. Takahashi, I love to sing—even to a hostage audience! I'm nearly maniacal about it. Quinn could tell you. I'd be happy to sing for you. Do you have something in mind?"

Mary ignored her husband. "John and I met in an internment camp during the war when we were very, very young children. They only had a few movies for entertainment we watched again and again and one was _The Wizard of Oz_."

"Ah. _Somewhere over the Rainbow_?"

"Yes. Exactly. It's a song that means so much to both of us. It meant for us, getting home—and looking at each other hoping we could stay together, which was so hard I couldn't begin to tell you. But we did."

"Of course and I don't need music." Rachel looked at the room, "Stay where you are but I should step back a bit because I'm very small but my voice is very, very large."

Quinn could see both older people were slightly amused as Rachel stepped back a good ten feet but the moment she began to sing and her voice more than filled the room, their faces changed.

As she sang, Rachel gave it everything she could and watched as the older couple began to cry. When Quinn saw this, she began to cry as well, and Rachel knew it was a tribute to her brutal professionalism that she continued on without falter.

When she finished the last soaring note, Rachel lightened the tone by saying, "I cannot bow in a Japanese way. I do, however, know how to bow after a musical performance." She gave a deep bow and came up smiling. "Thank you for allowing me to perform for you. It will remain a treasured memory in my life as this evening has been."

The older couple wiped their faces and bowed much lower than before. John said, "You have honored us with your art."

"As you have honored me with yours, if I may say so," she said as she smiled, "If you wouldn't mind? May I ask if you might do something like this for my fathers? I won't spread the word about this special place far and wide but I would love for them to experience this."

"We would enjoy their company if they created you," John said.

"Thank you but please don't ask either of them to sing unless you want animals howling in the neighborhood."

They spoke pleasantly for a few minutes and then took their leave of each other but suddenly Rachel ran back and hugged Mary, "Thank you," she whispered.

Mary dipped her head and whispered back, "Surely you know the world is waiting for you, child."

"Okay. That was the best first date ever," Rachel said as they entered the car.

"But wait! There's more!"

"What?"

"How about a drive-in movie?"

"Vinnie's Drive-In?"

"Yep."

"What are they showing?"

"Who knows, right?"

There was one drive-in movie place in Lima, on the outskirts of town, where it was appropriately dark. And Vinnie had a ten-foot fence around the whole of it because if people were going to try to watch one of his movies for free, unless they got really close, as he said, "They might watch but they'll only half see it and won't hear shit."

When they drove up, and it was a Friday night, Rachel was surprised to see "CLOSED" on the marquee.

"Oh—too bad. It's closed."

"Turn into the drive. Vinnie is my mother's best friend from high school. Beep the horn twice."

Rachel did so and the entrance doors to the drive-in opened and a large man appeared.

"Vinnie, this is Rachel."

"Hi, Rachel. Welcome to a one-time only showing I nearly had to eat glass to get."

Rachel put two and two or three and three together and said, "But for us? Privately? What is this costing your shutting your theater down tonight?"

He shrugged, "On a Friday? What your worth, evidently. But free to my best friend's baby."

He smiled at them. "Drive through and Rachel, see that flat bed pick-up in the best spot in this joint? That's your destination. Closing the doors behind ya."

Rachel drove into the middle of the space and parked beside the pick-up, which was appointed with blankets on its bed and pillows on its back so they could watch in comfort.

Vinnie walked up, pointed to a cooler and said, "There's plenty of water and soda in there." And I'm about to pop you a massive tub of popcorn. And Quinn likes her butter, Rachel, but I promise, the 'butter' product I put on it has nothing to do with animals of any kind."

"Thank you, Mr. Vinnie."

"But I have to say, I live out here. Just over the concession stand, and if you're reasonable, and you are, you might be spooked at how alone you can feel out here at night. This place is completely secure and surrounded by cameras. And don't worry—I leave them pointed out at night—not in. I'm not interested in my best friend's daughter's first date, believe me. But I do have two friends who'll hang out with you. SAL! MINEO!"

Two enormous dogs appeared from nowhere and raced toward them as Rachel immediately jumped behind Quinn and Vinnie. "Please don't let them bite me!"

"Sweetie? Are you afraid of dogs?"

Rachel nodded, "My dad was savaged by a miniature dachshund when he was five years old and needed two stitches in his hand!"

Quinn said, stifling laughter, "That's awful, sweetheart."

"I know! My daddy thinks it's ridiculous to be afraid but, yes, I believe dad has passed an inordinate anxiety about them to me."

"Well, let me introduce you to two dogs that won't hurt you. Sal and Mineo. Bullmastiffs bred by—"

"Dr. Bloomfield! So that's what you meant!"

"Exactly, sweetie."

Rachel peeked out between Vinnie and Quinn. "They're very large and terribly formidable."

Vinnie looked at Quinn and smiled. "They really are. I agree. But that's because they're bred to protect their people."

"Mr. Vinnie, do you think if I stepped forward, they might be overcome with a desire to lunge at me? I _am _very small and I might quite reasonably seem like prey to them."

Quinn saw that Vinnie was biting his cheek to quell his laughter even as he winked at her. "Call me Vinnie and I promise you they won't hurt you."

Rachel walked forward timidly and stood between Vinnie and Quinn.

"Look Rach. Britts and San and I have known them all their lives and we've been trained with them. Sal! Mineo! Down."

Both dogs immediately crouched down.

Quinn stepped between them and petted both. "Look, Rach. They're wagging their tails. They're totally happy getting nice pats."

"Are you suggesting I might pet one or both?"

"If you want."

Rachel frowned for a moment. "I will make the attempt. Which one is friendlier?"

"Both are friendly, Rachel," Vinnie said, "but Sal's the pussycat."

"I will attempt to pet Sal then."

"This is Sal. Sal, meet Rachel." Rachel tentatively crouched down and put her hand out, then drew it back.

"It's fine, sweetheart. Pet him."

Rachel reached forward and petted him and, surprised to find she wasn't being mauled, grinned in wonder as she said, "His coat is very soft."

"And look. He likes you. He's wagging his tail."

Rachel smiled and leaned forward and petted Sal over his torso and said very quietly, "I've petted cats on occasion but I didn't know that large animals could like me or not want to hurt me on instinct. Like most people, I guess."

That stuck in Quinn's throat like a thorn and from what the girl had told Vinnie about their relationship, stuck in his as well.

"Things change, Rachel."

Rachel smiled at them both. "Obviously."

"You like Sal?"

"He's a very handsome and congenial animal, Vinnie."

"Okay. Sit up on the end of the truck here."

Rachel did so.

"Don't get scared. I'm going to command him to sit by you. He won't hurt you but he's a leaner."

"What does that mean?"

"He'll lean into you if he likes you."

When Vinnie gave his command, Sal leapt up and sat next to Rachel at the end of the truck.

She looked at him sitting, looming beside her and as he began to lean into her, she said, "He's like Finn! Look how much taller he is than I am sitting down, Quinn!"

"Rachel."

"Quinn?"

"Give him a hug."

"He won't be offended?"

"He'll love it."

Rachel hugged the huge dog and felt the animal breathing quietly and calmly and felt a sense of security she never felt outside of her fathers' presence. "Quinn! It's like hugging a lion that won't bite you!"

"Exactly."

Vinnie gave Mineo the command to sit on Rachel's other side and, as both dogs leaned into her, she saw Quinn smiling at her with a melting look of love and she wrapped her arms around both dogs, which were both so much taller than her seated. "Take a picture Quinn! It will thrill my daddy and, because he's a doctor, he can resuscitate my dad when he sees it!"

After the picture, Vinnie left for about ten minutes and when he returned, handed them a huge tub of hot buttered popcorn and then commanded the dogs to the ground next to the truck. "I'm going back to my place. My dogs will take care of you and if they bark, better believe I'll be out with my 12-guage. No worries. When the movie's over, I'll give you about 45 minutes to do what teenagers do then I'm turning up the lights. So keep your clothes on."

Quinn blushed, "Thank you, Vinnie."

"No problem. Enjoy your movie. And your sound's a little HD audio enhanced—just for you girls. "

They settled themselves with water bottles and the popcorn between them and when the movie started, Rachel was reduced to, "No way."

"Way. You and me and the stars and _Funny Girl_."

"But it no longer exists in this format."

"Except if you really, really want it." She turned to Rachel, "I really, really want it—and you."

"Wow."

"Uh huh."

It was difficult to believe that Quinn had arranged all of this for her. She held her hand and they watched the movie and gobbled popcorn, occasionally smiled at each other. It was chilly and there was a full moon above them and it was magical. As she supposed her girlfriend had wanted it to be for her. Had created for her.

When the movie ended, the screen went blank and they blinked for a few moments, getting their bearings in the darkness.

"Can I have a kiss?"

"Are you kidding?"

Rachel tenderly and gently kissed and when they parted, Quinn said, "I like it. Our mouths are all buttery and slippery, aren't they?"

"They are, aren't they? It's sexy."

There was a long pause before Quinn said, "If I stretch out, will you get on top of me and kiss me? Really kiss me? Like you kissed me before we were so rudely interrupted by Officer Miller?"

Rachel looked at the girl, "I will but are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yes. Please. Lean up on one elbow, I want my arms around you but I want you on top."

Rachel did as asked and when she was half on top of Quinn, the girl said, "Please. Kiss me hard."

Rachel didn't—not at first. It was tenderness and gentleness for a long while but when she deepened her kiss, Quinn moaned. Rachel continued and then pushed her body more forcefully onto Quinn's and hardened and deepened their kiss, which made Quinn's hands, which were embracing her back, begin to clutch at her girlfriend's sweater. The harder Rachel kissed Quinn, the more the girl moaned and the more frantically she pulled Rachel to her but in such a strangely haphazard way, Rachel became worried.

Rachel pulled away. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

Quinn was breathing as if she were on fire, "No. I mean yes. Please don't stop. Please. Harder. Please. Kiss me deeper."

Rachel kissed Quinn as hard and as deeply as she could and as Quinn moaned and moved beneath her, Rachel finally realized what was happening. They were having fully clothed kissing sex and Quinn was a willing recipient of everything Rachel was giving her. Which actually made Rachel break into a sweat, as cold as it was. They kissed ferociously until Quinn began to breath harder, clutch more frantically at Rachel's sweater, again and again until her body suddenly arched and stiffened and she turned away from Rachel's mouth even as she pulled her tightly to her.

"OhGodOhGodOhGod…"

Rachel felt Quinn's body's body spasm beneath her again and again and then it stilled as she put her head on Quinn's chest. They rested like that for minutes before Rachel said, "Best first date ever."

Quinn laughed. "I'll never look at popcorn the same way again."

"Me either," Rachel sighed as she propped herself up on an elbow, "Thank you, baby. That was beautiful."

Quinn didn't meet Rachel's eyes. "That's the first time I ever—you know…"

"First time for me too. For someone beside myself. I feel honored. I'm not kidding. It was beautiful to be part of, Quinn. You've made this night so special and this is part of it."

"Thank you."

"Baby?"

"What?"

"What are you really thinking?"

Quinn stared up at the stars. "Really? Seriously? You want to sort of journal together?"

"We just shared something very important together. Why not?"

"Really?"

Rachel kissed her on the cheek, "Really."

"I feel happy and loved."

"Good. But what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I was a little bit dirty to ask you to kiss me that way. Because I wanted to have…you know…"

"Pleasure?"

Quinn still couldn't meet her eyes. "Yes."

"Do you think loving me is dirty?"

"No!"

"Okay. Let's work through this. Is loving me, woman to woman, dirty?"

"No."

"Do you believe a physical expression of our love is dirty?"

"No. Never."

"So what's dirty is your wanting or asking for pleasure, angel?"

Quinn took many deep breaths before answering. "Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know yet, Rachel. I really like…look around in my mind for why I feel that way. First? It's a sin. That's the first thought but I know it's not. Probably how I really feel is I don't deserve it."

Rachel's face was solemn, "Do we need to back off, baby? I don't want to but I'd do anything for you."

"No! I want my girlfriend and you know I'm fucked up but I want to find out about sex or whatever together, working through it together."

"You're not fucked up. And that's a good plan. We've found out that we can have sex just by kissing which, I believe, is a mega-ton better than average."

"But I wanted so much to make our first date special."

"It was perfect! A fantastic dinner with amazing people, I got to sing, learned I'm not a wuss around dogs, watched a fantastic movie, had great popcorn and participated in a first orgasm and have the most beautiful, thoughtful and amazing woman as a girlfriend? Can we get a picture right now? You look so pretty. I want something to remember this moment by."

They took a picture and gently kissed each other until Vinnie turned the lights on.

When he approached them, Quinn said, "See? Still clothed, Vinnie."

"Barely. Your faces tell the story, ladies."

Rachel smiled. "So they might. We're in love."

He smiled "Good for you. Sal? Mineo?"

The dogs appeared. He pointed at Rachel. "Incoming. Kiss!"

The dogs leapt into the truck and began to lick Rachel, who laughed as she was tossed on her back covered by the enormous hounds and was not at all frightened, petting them and seemingly happily looking at the stars.

Quinn watched Rachel and smiled. Courage. When pressed to the wall? That's what the girl had.

Courage.

**A/N That's what I got for this chapter. Hope you liked it. ETA? Actually, I'm laughing because from a few reviews, (although justified by canon) evidently the word courage invokes Blaine. The Warblers are tremendous singers and all that but I was so bored by their hijacking the show for a long while, and especially by Blaine. GREAT singer but bored. The word courage, to me? In this fandom? It has nothing to do with Blaine for me and I think Rachel has a hell of a lot more courage than Blaine does, in his pretty, posh, accepting school. Rachel has faced down hell every day of her high school career in the show. Kurt is picked on by, primarily, Karofsky and Azimio. Rachel is picked on by EVERYone. Easier to say 'courage' when you've never been really bullied than facing it down when you are, Blaine.**


	43. Chapter 43

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**First chapter dealing with the after-date. The second probably tomorrow.  
**

* * *

When Rachel walked in from her date, her fathers were awake as she knew they would be, because she was fifteen minutes past curfew.

She held up her hands. "I'm sorry but I can explain."

"The condition you're in?" Jacob's voice was sharp and pointed.

Rachel looked at herself and her noticeable dishevelment, then up at them. "Oh. Right. I look this way because two enormous dogs rolled me around in the back of a pick-up truck tonight."

"Get me my inhaler, Eric."

Eric looked at his husband and made a spot-medical assessment. "You don't need it. It's just drama nerves. Explain, baby girl."

Rachel clapped her hands with excitement and said, "It was a night I will never, ever forget! You won't believe it! I can't wait to tell you! And I have pictures!"

And even Jacob had to relent to the excitement in the girl's voice. She told them about the dinner, showed them pictures on her phone and how'd she'd sung for the Takahashi's.

She explained the drive-in and what Quinn had arranged for her and they were as stunned as she had been. "How could she…that's really sort of…"

"I know! She loves me! And these are the dogs I was playing with!"

She showed them the picture of her arms around Sal and Mineo and Jacob said, "I think I do need my inhaler," even as Eric winked at Rachel. "Good job, baby girl. And Jacob? Remember I'm a physician and your husband. I'll grab your inhaler when it's needed."

"And although this is actually too much information? You will be gratified to know that Quinn and I only kissed each other and did not go to second base as had been previously discussed as perhaps too premature for us."

Rachel was pleased to be telling the truth, despite what had actually happened, and felt on top of the world. "I'm very sorry I missed my curfew but I was playing with the dogs while Vinnie and Quinn watched and I was having so much fun. You know I've always been playmate deficient and the dogs were so nice and happy to know me and it was so enjoyable to be able to roll around with such enormous and agreeable creatures although I must say that they are more slobbery kissers than Finn which is perhaps the world's eighth wonder so I didn't look at my watch. Quinn had to tell me what time it was. I'm really am sorry but this has been the happiest night of my life."

Jacob smiled at her. "Do you want to sing?" Both her fathers knew this could happen at any time and was her usual mode of expression.

She smiled at him and then at her Daddy and surprised them by saying, "Actually? No. No song could express it. I'm very sorry I kept you up. If I have punishment, maybe tomorrow? I'm going to sleep thinking of tonight because it was magical for me."

As she moved to hug them, she said, "Despite my disrepair, I will tell you that I washed the dog slobber off my face before I left the theater so you need have no concern about kissing me goodnight."

"Nothing on Earth could keep us from kissing you goodnight, baby girl."

Rachel smiled to herself, remembering the dinner and the movie and the dogs as she changed into her bedclothes and brushed her teeth. But once she'd finally climbed into bed and turned out her light, she immediately addressed the ache she'd felt nearly all night.

* * *

"How'd it go, sweetie?" Judy Fabray was waiting up as well.

"Beyond perfect. She was thrilled. And I'll write Vinnie a thank you note and call him but please let him know when you talk to him how much it meant to us."

"I certainly will and I shouldn't tell you this but I will and you can't repeat it? To anyone?"

Quinn nodded.

"When I asked, Vinnie growled the way he does and said it was basically crazy and totally impossible but, hey, he knew people, okay?"

"That sounds like him."

"Well, you know how he is. He's lived in Lima, Ohio all of his life but he likes to suggest because he's Italian he's "connected" although what the Mafia would do in Lima except kill each other out of sheer boredom is a mystery to me. But oddly enough, he can get things done which are nearly impossible, and that print of _Funny Girl _was actually fairly impossible."

"Rachel said it didn't exist in that format."

"Unless you're Vinnie, evidently."

"So I'm not supposed to tell people Vinnie might be connected to the Mafia?"

"That, and the fact he also said, when I asked and I'll paraphrase but try to keep the message the same?

_'For you or Quinn? Anything. It can happen. But if it was for that bitch Toni, sorry Judy. I mean I know she's your kid and you're my best friend so if she was in real trouble? Like somebody was roughing her up or she got mixed up with the wrong people or something, I'd deal with it for you. But just a favor for Toni? The only favor I'd do Toni is not setting the dogs on her. And just so you know, like I told you when I warned you about marrying that son of a bitch, I'd still rough up Russell for free.'_"

Quinn smiled at this. "Mom. Tonight was perfection and thank you so much for suggesting the Takahashi's and for helping with Vinnie. But knowing Vinnie called Toni a bitch and threatened to beat up my sperm donor is like a big fat cherry on top of a ice cream sundae."

"I knew you'd think so. I'm so happy you had a wonderful night."

"Wonderful doesn't begin to describe it. And we have pictures. Rachel can send them to me and you'll be happy to know they're all G-rated!"

"That's good but I've never understood, although admittedly I'm the least sexually adventurous person on the planet, what would possess someone to stop to take pictures? In the sense of why wouldn't you just—"

"Mom—stop. I can tell you're about to scar me for life."

Judy laughed heartily, "I was teasing. I didn't know if I actually had the imagination or how far I could get with that sentence before you stopped me."

"Far enough and fair enough."

"If you decide to have children, you'll find the fact you embarrass them is at first embarrassing—and then over the years, the fact you can becomes slightly enjoyable."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Judy paused for a moment before she said, "And Quinn?"

Fabrays read attitudes like books. One incredibly subtle change in her mother's face and voice made Quinn also pause before saying, "Mom?"

"Vinnie asked me to go on what I suppose would be considered…well, he asked me if I would consider going on a date with him"

Quinn jaw dropped open before she said, "_Our_ Vinnie? Your best friend Vinnie? No way."

"I think I'm supposed to say way at this point. And does that mean you wouldn't approve?"

"Are you kidding me? I hope to God you said yes!"

"I…_did_."

"That's fantastic mom! I can't believe it! He's perfect!"

"Perfect? He lives over the concession stand at a drive-in movie theater and his primary companions are two dogs and a 12-guage shotgun."

"What doesn't totally spell romance about that? Believe me—I was just there. Big time romance. Promise."

"You'd really be okay with my seeing him?"

"Mom? I'm a lesbian. I will live that fact my whole life. And I intend to live a happy life. You're making that possible for me with my therapy and your acceptance, okay? But I'll be going to school in a few years. So start living your own life—a happier life, okay? You totally deserve one and excuse me, but fuck what people think. It only matters what people who love you think."

She hugged her mother and surprised her by kissing her on the cheek, then said, "And, as Santana would put it, it'd be da shit to haves us a gangsta up in da family. And with that, goodnight."

* * *

Quinn was pleased with her mother's revelation but as she changed and got into bed, she let that go and thought about her time with Rachel and about what had happened at the end. She knew she should write about it but decided she was too tired, it was too fresh, and it wasn't like it was going anywhere in her memory. In fact, it was still playing through her mind on repeat and soon she began to feel…

She looked around in her darkened room and she reminded herself she was alone. She looked at the ceiling and then closed her eyes. But after a few moments, for the first time in her life, she slid her hand down her her body and under her sleep shorts.

* * *

It was over in minutes and Quinn was so slightly shocked by what she'd done that the buzzing of her phone on the bedside table startled her.

**Rachel Berry: Thank you again. All of it was amazing—all of it**

**Quinn Fabray: No, thank you!**

**Rachel Berry: Sorry later than I thought with goodnight but I really had to take care of something urgently**

**Quinn Fabray: What sort of something**

**Rachel Berry: I'm fairly sure you can imagine**

**Quinn Fabray: If it's what I think, I sort of had to take care of it too—again**

**Rachel Berry: You did? It!**

**Quinn Fabray: I did**

**Rachel Berry: I'm so happy for you. OMG**

There was a very long pause.

**Quinn Fabray: Thanks, I guess, Rach and I love you so much but PLEASE don't show up with some huge 'happy first masturbation!' cookie?**

**Rachel Berry: Are you okay?**

**Quinn Fabray: I'm fine but I think I want to talk to Dr. Southerland about it first**

**Rachel Berry: Then you're not fine**

**Quinn Fabray: No—the fact I'm totally fine is something I want to talk about with her first, okay?**

**Rachel Berry: Okay. As long as you're not upset**

**Quinn Fabray: Not. Promise. How are you? And yes I'm asking what you think I am**

**Rachel Berry: Well? Thinking about you and tonight? Best orgasm in my life—so far. You?**

**Quinn Fabray: Second best. Of course I've only had two. But no comparison**

**Rachel Berry: I begin to see the appeal of sexting**

**Quinn Fabray: Is that what this is?**

**Rachel Berry: I'd rather be with you, though**

**Quinn Fabray: Me too**

**Quinn Fabray: I mean with you now because technically I was just with me and, wow, I'm hot (and I AM kidding)**

**Rachel Berry: I'm not. You're like the sun**

**Quinn Fabray: Get some rest and thank you again. I love you**

**Rachel Berry: Call me in the morning and I love you more**

**Quinn Fabray: Imp**

**Rachel Berry: Did you just call me an imp?**

**Quinn Fabray: Abbreviation for impossible?**

**Rachel Berry: Using a period would have obviated that mistake on my part**

**Quinn Fabray: But then it would have lost its dual meaning**

**Rachel Berry: I resent that**

**Quinn Fabray: My work here is done. XO x 1000, beautiful**

**Rachel Berry: I'll let you slide because you're a great kisser. XO exponentially—I don't know how to do math notation in text. I will research**

**Quinn Fabray: I shouldn't come up much sweetie. Sleep tight**

**Rachel Berry: You too**

* * *

It was really early on a Saturday morning for Santana to be standing on her doorstep. Quinn knew her mom was going to some early breakfast and then some meet-and-greet with other new Realtors so she was alone in the house.

"Where's B?"

"You meant good morning, Santana? I'll do the pleasantries for you, Q, since you're obvs still asleep. B's just getting up, but her parents have Dad's bro and wife and cousin coming over for an early breakfast and I hate that little cocksucker but Britts has to stay so she told me to go. Last time she had to keep me from choking his ass. You inviting me in?"

Quinn shrugged, "You invited yourself over—I didn't think I needed to bother."

"Somebody's crabby."

"Whatever. Go make coffee, San. You know where everything is—let me at least brush my teeth, splash my face and change into some jeans or something."

"Don't do it for me. You look hot all sleepy and half-clothed. I've always thought so."

"Please don't faux-hit on me before I have coffee."

"New rule?"

"It's always been a rule—since we were thirteen."

"Oh that's right."

"Make the coffee, bitch."

"Where are your crutches?"

"Don't strictly have to have them anymore—I'll just limp on my cast—might use a cane."

"Quinn and a cane. _Whip!_ Now _that's_ hot."

"Shut up."

"God, you're testy in the morning."

"Next time you find me on your doorstep at 7:30 on a Saturday, let's see how you act."

"You have a point."

* * *

As Quinn reappeared and they fixed their coffee around each other without asking, too used to each other's houses to have to ask for anything, Quinn finally asked, "To what do I owe this really untimely visit? And grab two bagels for us and toast them."

"Untimely? Oh shit. The dwarf's not here is she?"

"No! Of course not. See her car in the driveway? No."

Santana put bagels in the toaster oven as she said, "I just came to get the deets."

"No, wait. Really? You got up this early to ask me about my date?"

"Who can you tell? Seriously. You have to tell somebody—favor to a friend."

"Okay, Mercedes, whether that's a favor to me or you is debatable."

"Don't even. I'm not gossip central. Where'd you go—that sort of shit. You were being all James Bond about it."

Quinn told her about the Takahashi's and the meal and Rachel's singing and Santana said, "Damn. That sounds actually pretty fantastic and not to be crass but what'd that set you back?"

"You can't tell."

"Who would I tell?"

"Uh. Let me think. Brittany? And then because our girlfriends are carrying on the most torrid bromance in history, it'd get back to Rachel. So, anyway, $150."

Santana whistled then said "Wow," as she pulled the bagels. "Want the usual?"

"Sure."

Santana put cream cheese on their bagels, then raspberry jam on hers and honey on Quinn's. As she took a seat, she said, "That's a lotta money, Quinn."

"It is—or was, but Mr. Takahashi took me aside and said that they couldn't possibly accept money to offer hospitality to such an artist gracing their home."

"Fuck me! Really?"

"Really."

"Wow." She chewed and thought about it, "Can I borrow the midge for Breadstix?"

"I don't think it would work that way there."

Santana laughed, "No shit, right? It's like basically slightly higher-classed Spaghettios but with the bread?"

"Let's not get started on your fetish."

"Next!"

Quinn told her about the drive-in and the dogs and the movie she could tell Santana was deeply impressed and then suddenly looked a little forlorn. "What's wrong, S?"

"Well, that sorta rocked—like in all romantic rocked. I've never done that sort of stuff for Brittany and we're engaged."

Quinn took a sip of coffee. "You've been on your first date since you were both three, S. I'm making up for a lot of lost time. San? I love Britts like a sister and you know that?"

Santana nodded.

"If you took her to the park with a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and two grape juice boxes and fed ducks? That'd be just as cool for her. She's in love with you. I'm working from behind the eight ball with my girl."

"Please tell me you're working on that whole guilt shit with your therapist."

"I am."

"Good—so spill—I want to hear what base you got to. Because the midge had to put out a little after all that."

"We stayed at first base."

"No fucking way. A _kiss_?"

"Yes."

Santana tossed her bagel on the plate in disgust. "You went to all that effort and you got a lousy kiss?"

"I went to the effort because I love her and it wasn't a lousy kiss."

And then Quinn blushed, which of course, Santana noticed. "Oh I gotcha. A special kiss. Tell all."

"It was just a very, very good kiss and she was half on top of me and, like I said, it was so…good it made me…uh…well…"

Santana leaned forward, "Made you…"

Quinn lowered her head and voice, "It made me—_you know_…made me…."

The girl's eyes popped, "It made you come?"

Quinn nodded.

"_Holy shit_. Really?"

"Yeah."

"No bumping or grinding or nothing?"

"No."

"Wow. Who knew. Oh wait. Hell, I did. I knew that girl would be a firecracker."

Quinn ignored this and continued, "And you know, that was the first time I'd ever…"

"You'd ever what?"

They both leaned forward again.

"_You know_."

Santana looked at Quinn's scarlet face and blinked, "That's the first time you'd had an orgasm, Quinn?"

The girl nodded.

"Okay, hold please. Spell check. I know you've only had sex once and God knows sex with someone like Puck doesn't always make you come but you mean, like you haven't been doing a little somethin' somethin' with yourself on the side?"

Quinn shook her head.

"Oh. My. God. That _so_ totally explains what a bitch you've been since we hit puberty."

Quinn's eyes suddenly filled with tears, "I _know_ it's stupid, alright! I'm fucked up okay! Don't make fun of me!"

Santana immediately rushed around the table and took the other girl in her arms. "Shhh_, mi hermosa._ Don't cry. No. I'm not making fun of you. I was being a bitch and no surprise there, right? Shhh, shhh, don't cry. I was just surprised because if I were as hot as you are I know I couldn't keep my hands off myself."

That made Quinn laugh into Santana's shoulder and they hugged each other tighter.

"But I did it, San."

"You did what, _mi angelita_?"

"I was still so…when I got home last night, I did it."

"Did what?"

"_That_."

"Oh. Okay. You touched yourself?"

Quinn nodded, pulled away and as Santana wiped the tears from her cheeks, Quinn said, "I told Rachel about it but I want to talk to my doctor about it before I say anything more. I love Rachel so much but she's so convinced of certain things and doesn't understand certain things because she's never had a doubt about them. But I know you'll understand me if I tell you I was surprised that what I did-when it was over? It didn't feel like a sin."

Santana smiled sadly at her friend and at the turmoil in her eyes, "I completely understand. And it wasn't a sin. I'm glad you told me and I won't tell anyone, not even Britts. If you need to talk or want to visit my priest with me and talk about this, because he's completely supportive, we can okay? I know you're not Catholic but you Episcopalians are Catholic Lite. I'd go with but you could just talk to him by yourself. And that's just an idea."

"I'll think about it. Thanks, San."

"What am I here for but to dispense wisdom, hotness, and complete bad-assed-ness into the world?"

"That wasn't a word."

"Close enough." Santana smiled, leaned forward and kissed Quinn chastely on the lips. They did this occasionally and it was nothing to them but it suddenly occurred to Quinn, "If we do this, you know Britts and Rach—"

"Don't get your jelly up. Britts says she wants to but doesn't because she knows how you feel."

"Wants to what exactly?"

"Kiss Rachel when she says hello or goodbye or when they have a spectacular achievement with their sub."

"Constantly, in other words."

"I know right? Basically. But no tongue."

"Got it."

"So if I say yes, you realize Rach will ask and what'll you say?"

"Yes."

"And you won't lose your damned mind?"

"No. When I watched Rachel playing with the dogs last night, I mean no disrespect toward our B but I thought of Britts. Rach has never had anyone to play with and I did that to her. I know she and B aren't going to do anything except play. And if it makes them happy to kiss like friends, who are we to argue?"

"I agree. But you understand? I'm marrying Brittany. I have a huge suspicion you might marry Rachel someday but there will always be a third relationship."

"The epic bromance."

"Totally. Okay—so we agree. And so whatcha want to do with the rest of the day, sexy?"

Quinn stared at her and Santana cupped Quinn's face between her hands, "You are sexy. Sexual pleasure is not a bad thing, Q. Not with someone you love—and that really should include yourself and I'm thinking that's a sticking point for you. Just trust me. I know stuff. I'm as sexy as girls get."

"You are."

Santana winked, "How about this? We'll wait until hobby wakes up and until Cockasaurus Rex leaves Britts' house and we'll all go to the arcade or a movie or something?"

"What is the problem with the cousin?"

"Problem? His name's Luke and he's a really big 12 year old going full-on Puck already and doesn't understand a first cousin is, hello, your family. And too closely related to play tag with."

"So he's hitting on B?"

"Like lightning on a lone tree in a desolate prairie."

"Damn, S. That was almost poetic."

"We've had weepy moments this morning—makes me that way."

"Gotcha. I'm surprised you left B by herself."

"She told me she'd just finally knee him in the 'nads if he touched her ass again."

"What? He touched Brittany's butt?"

"Yeah—hence the choke hold Britts pulled me out of."

"Okay. I'll change and put on a little make-up and we're going to the Pierce family residence."

"We don't have to."

"Oh I know. But you know you kick ass but I carry the fire. No one burns like me."

And although Santana thought of herself as the most bad-ass person at the school, there was a reason she called Quinn cap and it wasn't just to be a smart-ass. They were very much alike, but had their own ways of carrying out an ass-kicking and sometimes Santana enjoyed deferring to the subtle burn that was Quinn's way.

"Alright—we'll just say hello and tell Britts we're going to go, I don't know, fuck, take a walk at the park because it's a beautiful day. And it is." She ran a thumb over Quinn's cheek, "Not as beautiful as you are—but most things in life aren't."

Because Quinn could see she meant it, she didn't offer a sarcastic response. "Back atcha. Let's go kick a little ass. No need to interfere with the whole family—just call Britts and sweet little Luke to the car."

* * *

When they arrived and beeped the horn, Brittany skipped out followed by a lumbering and very large boy. He might grow into reasonable looks but Quinn didn't care. Santana and Quinn got out of the car and Brittany hugged Santana before hugging Quinn, "Did you like your date?"

"It was awesome."

"That's so cool. I can't wait to hear about. San says you're taking a walk at the park."

"Well, a short one because of my leg—but it's a pretty day—she thinks I need some air."

Quinn turned her eyes to the boy, "Luke, is it?"

"Yes," he said to the prettiest girl he'd ever met.

She held out her hand. "Quinn Fabray."

He shook it as he looked her over a little too appreciatively, "Luke Pierce."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Are you coming to William McKinley next year?"

"Yeah—I'm totally stoked about it."

"Good. Good. Do you know who Brittany is at school?"

"Well...uh…a cheerleader?"

"She is. And so is Santana."

Although she smiled at him, Luke began to feel like the look in this really hot blonde's eyes wasn't very nice.

"I'm the head cheerleader, Luke. I'm the most popular girl in the school. You think I'm really pretty, don't you?"

He hesitated, "Well…sure."

Her voice was flat, emotionless, "That's normal. Most people do. Actually, most people consider me the prettiest girl at the school you'll be attending next year. But I am also, without a doubt, the meanest, most merciless and powerful girl at the school you'll be attending next year. And Santana is right beside me in the mean, merciless and powerful department. Look in my eyes and tell me if you can imagine that might be true."

And suddenly the girl's eyes, in her totally hot face, were totally cold and he felt a little frightened.

He knew he had to answer so he said. "I guess."

"That's brilliant, Luke. Let me give you some information you need if you don't want your freshman year to be a painful torturous hell, as only I can make it. Brittany is one of the people I love most in my life so I won't have anyone actually physically hurt you because you're part of her family. I could do that, believe me, but there are more ways to hurt than physical, little boy, and I know them all. Think about the worst loser in the school you go to now, okay? Someone everyone picks on? Makes fun of every single day? Can you think of that person?"

He nodded.

"When you come to my school, I could so easily make you that person in about two days and that would last for four years of high school. So here's the deal? You're Britts' cousin. So you can shake her hand or kiss her cheek when you meet. You may not hug her and you can't say one more thing that suggests you're hitting on her or touch any other part of her body. Ever again. Because she will tell Santana and San will tell me and then it'll be game on. Brittany is my family, too, Luke. You don't fuck with my family. And you will learn, if you're stupid enough to try it, that _nobody_ fucks with Brittany. Do you understand me?"

"Yes…ma'am."

"Good. Now you two enjoy breakfast. Say hello to your parents for me, B."

Brittany moved forward and hugged Quinn, again and whispered, "Thanks and that was sorta super hot."

"_De nada_ for my duckling."

Brittany pulled out of the hug and smiled shyly at Santana, "I love you San. Later?"

"Def—back atcha, baby."

As they got in the car, Quinn laughed, "Now, _that_ was _exactly_ what I needed."

"Totally, right? I know we're awful but it's like powerslamming a double fucking Red Bull-good times!"

* * *

**A/N: So there you go. And wait there's more. But you'll have to wait for the more part.**


	44. Chapter 44

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**Second part of the date-reaction. Santana and Rachel aren't perfect! Who knew? Mostly Quinn with her therapist. **

**A/N: There may sometimes be issues or people I bring up into certain chapters that seem out of the blue or unnecessary. But, like the Cylons, I have a plan. Promise. If you don't like? Skip. It's a boring story, so you can skip chapters. Seriously. I've been told this.**

* * *

They met later in the day, in the Lima arcade, primarily for Santana and Brittany's benefit, a place Rachel had never set foot in.

It was dark and lit only by the flashing lights of perhaps one hundred games, along with the sounds of all of them and the teens milling around them. "My God, look at the lights and listen to all this cacaphony! If I were an epileptic, I'd certainly have a seizure. In fact, I still may."

Quinn smiled and raised her voice to be heard above the din of noise, "Think of it like you're on the red carpet, Rach, and all these lights are photographers and the sounds are them shouting questions at you."

Rachel tilted her head for a moment and looked around, "That helps immensely. Thank you, Quinn."

Santana rolled her eyes, "How we get the dwarf's ego in the car with all of us, I'll never know."

"My ego is exactly the size it deserves to be, Santana."

"Right. When you went through the ego drive-through before you were born you said, 'Super-size me, God!' Let's go play, Britts."

Quinn didn't necessarily like the arcade but she wasn't averse to watching her friends play because Brittany was inevitably better than Santana and it made her soul soar to watch the girl get beaten like a drum by someone she couldn't really get mad at.

Brittany eventually cajoled Rachel into teaching her how to play a game, which the other girls watched for a few minutes before Rachel said, "Brittany can teach me but you two can't watch. I'm experiencing extreme performance anxiety!"

"I thought you never got that, hobbs."

"On stage never, Santana, but I'm trying to shoot at things that are moving quickly and I can feel you smirking behind me which makes me want to turn and shoot you. These conflicting emotions are keeping me from succeeding in this very challenging game."

"_Damn_. Okay. Me and Q'll go get a soda or something."

As Quinn and Santana sipped their cherry cokes, they watched their girls playing the game, all over each other as always.

"Promise me one thing Quinn? Very seriously?"

Quinn glanced at Santana and said, "Yes?"

"No matter how drunk? I mean smashed, knee-walking, steal a parent's credit card, fly to Vegas and wake up with matching tattoos drunk we get?"

"Okay."

"We never go all polyamory with this."

Quinn paused over this before she responded, "Did you just say what I think that meant?"

"Well, yeah."

"I am completely attempting to remove that suggestion from my memory even…"

"What? The hot images it brings up? Because the four of us? It would be super hot."

"Yes, and those photos are being rapidly deleted from my brain."

"We're both Apple and Windows girls. Deleting them into your recycle bin for later?"

"Why do you _do_ this to me?"

"I can't fuck you, Q, but I can fuck _with_ you."

"Lucky me."

"Lucky? You wish."

"Please. You _want_ so much more than I wish."

Santana laughed and winked at her, "I won't even lie. Absolutely. Now let's go get our real girlfriends, _chica_," she said as she turned away.

That smirk? That attitude and sexual assurance? Quinn felt a sudden surge of fury, walked quickly to catch up with Santana, grabbed her by the wrist, wheeled her around, pulled her closer and whispered into her ear. "You do know that you're pushing every single violent jealousy button I have about Rachel, don't you? Talking about her like that could even ever happen? I really don't need it—not now. And you should fucking know that after I trusted you today."

Santana's face immediately changed as she felt her heart drop like a rock into her stomach as she realized what she'd done, "_Ay Dios mio_, _mi hermosa_. I was just teasing you. But you're right. You're so right. That was so insensitive and stupid and clueless. Add every adjective for dumbass you can. Please forgive me. Please, please, please. I'll get down on my knees. Please. I wouldn't hurt you or set you back for the world. You know the only person I want is Brittany. The only person Rachel wants is you." She pulled Quinn into a hug, "I would never, ever hurt you that way and neither would Brittany. And Rachel wouldn't either but don't tell her I said something nice."

Quinn tightened the hug, "Could you just take it easy with the sex stuff, San? You can say anything you want about me and you and I know you're semi-full of shit but nothing about Rachel. Please?"

"Got it. Done deal. I love you, Quinn. Please know that."

There was a long pause before Quinn responded, "Whatever. _Te amo_."

"Then she put her hand around my waist," Santana sang and when Quinn semi-smiled at this running joke between them, Santana knew she'd dodged a bullet. Or rather, she'd only given Quinn a flesh wound with her foolishly fired gun. She thanked God for that and as the blonde turned to joined the other girls, Santana crossed herself and kissed her fingers.

* * *

They played for another hour and, although Rachel and Brittany noticed that Santana and Quinn held hands the rest of that time, which was completely unlike them, they looked at each other and decided it might be better not to ask. They all decided to go back to Rachel's house to watch a movie with her fathers, then have dinner. When everyone had cleared it with their parents, they went down to the entertainment room with bowls of popcorn and sodas. Picking the movie quickly became interesting.

"Okay, what shall we watch," Jacob asked.

"I can't watch anything unless San picks it for me," Brittany said.

Although Rachel accepted and appreciated Santana's status with Brittany, it sometimes rankled her as too controlling. "What do you mean, Brittany?"

"San has to pick or I watch Disney or animated movies that we've already seen together or like old-time musical stuff. I know you have that stuff, so that would be cool."

"And why is that?"

"Because that's the way it is, Rachel," Santana said firmly.

Rachel didn't let it go. "I mean why is that way, _exactly_?"

There was a long pause before Brittany said, quietly, "Because I'm a fainting goat."

"Britts? Please don't—let's not talk about that."

"What does that even mean?" Rachel said in a demanding tone. Although Quinn had no idea what Brittany and Santana were talking about, she'd always just understood this movie-choosing thing was a given. Her girls' reaction made her understand it was something else and she shook her head emphatically, 'no' at Rachel.

Brittany was more adamant, "Rach. It's like I love you so much but you don't get to sorta say San's doing something bad when she's helped me all my life."

"I'm not saying that."

"You sorta are and I can tell and San can too and it's upsetting her and making my stomach hurt."

They all looked at Santana, who looked sad and upset to Quinn and Brittany but to the Berrys looked really terrifically pissed off.

Jacob said, "Maybe we should just skip the movie."

"No Jacob, I want to watch one. You can tell them, San. I'm not embarrassed."

"_Fine_." Santana said, turning her attention to Rachel, "If you won't accept Brittany's word as a young adult that she actually _does_ know what's best for her and that I _can_ help her with it? I'll tell ya. Do you know what a fainting goat is? Your daddy might. It's also called a myotonic goat. It's a congenital condition called myotonia congenita that causes these goats, when startled, to have their muscles freeze and then they fall over, or once they get older, stagger around because they've gotten used to it. It doesn't hurt them, _per se_, but no conclusive reason has been found exactly why this happens in their musculature."

"Some people like Britts, experience a human version of myotonia that can be, and is in her case, thank Jesus, Mary and Joseph, rare and unrelated to other diseases. And yes, our parents and me and Britts have gone to doctors for it and over the years we've found out what triggers it. It's not being startled—she can handle that. It's being exposed to situations of extreme fear combined with stress. She doesn't experience a lot of stress and fear in her life because if someone tries to stress her or frighten her, they have to deal with me. But one particular thing we've learned over our lives together is that some movies cause it. If scenes are too stressfully suspenseful and scary, her muscles stiffen and she falls over, which doesn't hurt her but isn't a whole lot of fun for her in a social setting. And so that's why I _pick her fucking_ _movies for her_, Rachel. Since you asked so very nicely and non-judgmentally."

Rachel could only say, "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. And just so you know? If Britts really wants to see something I'm not sure about, I pre-watch it and then I make her turn her head away at the right places and I describe it to her. I've been doing this since we were about ten and she hasn't had an episode since she was ten. So in the future, Rachel, if it's something this innocuous? You had better not put _Britts_ on the spot in a social situation questioning something that you don't understand about our relationship. It's not cool and if she didn't love you and Quinn didn't and I didn't to a degree, I'd hurt you. And yeah, I'll say that right up in front of your dads. We clear?"

"Yes. I apologize profusely. I'm sorry, Brittany."

"S'okay. It's no biggie. Now you know. Sorry, Eric, Jacob. I'm a fainting goat." She laughed, "But I'm also a great dancer."

Jacob smiled, "That you are! And now we know what to watch when you come over. More for me and you and less for Eric and Rachel!"

"Excellent!"

Santana was actually terrifically pleased about the outcome of this revelation but she only nodded, "Okay with the lovefest. Forgiven, short stack, because I know you could literally get profuse. Now get your ass over here and show me what we gots to choose from."

Rachel scampered over and spread the movies out and the rest of the room was so mortified they remained silent as the two looked them over. At one point Santana stepped closer, side by side to Rachel, at which the girl visibly flinched. Her fathers sat on their hands and watched as Santana put an arm around Rachel's shoulder and kissed the side of her head. They couldn't hear what they whispered to each other.

"You'll learn, hobby."

"I'm sorry, Santana."

"Me too. Hyper-vigilant, much?"

They looked them over and Santana pulled one out and said, "Yes! Japanese and subtitles but I pre-watched it. _Tampopo_?" The Berrys had it but hadn't watched it. "Brilliant. It's a comedy and I bet we'll all love it and Brittany can half understand Japanese at this point, so no probs there. My baby's the bomb."

* * *

The rest of the evening went well and after they took their leave of each other, Rachel waited an hour and then texted.

**Rachel Berry: I owe you more of an apology than I gave you**

**Santana Lopez: Yes you do**

**Rachel Berry: I'm very sorry. I won't question you with B again**

**Santana Lopez: Please. Question me all you want. I suck all the time**

**Santana Lopez: Just don't do it in front of people and B—it makes her stomach hurt so she'll spill stuff that's private about herself**

**Rachel Berry: You're really a good girlfriend**

**Santana Lopez: Correction, ese. Fiancée**

**Rachel Berry: Noted, my non-Mexican. XO, S**

**Santana Lopez: No, no. You only get to kiss B. BY THE RULES! No tongue. I don't get to kiss you although I do kiss your girl occasionally, by the rules**

**Rachel Berry: And why's that?**

**Santana Lopez: Why do I kiss Q or not kiss you? **

**Rachel Berry: I know why anyone would kiss Quinn. That's a given. Why not me**

**Santana Lopez: I know you're trying to get me to sext you but I won't**

**Rachel Berry: ! I was NOT**

**Santana Lopez: Don't worry—I won't tell on you**

**Rachel Berry: If I weren't so small and terrified by you, I'd come to your house and punch you**

**Santana Lopez: More proof you're hot for me**

Long pause…

**Rachel Berry: Please tell me you don't associate violence with romance, for B's sake**

**Santana Lopez: J, M&J, assuming you know who they are, my sweet Jew? Can't you take a joke?**

**Rachel Berry: I suppose I can. I believe I can take a punch, as well. If not in the nose**

**Santana Lopez: Girl, that's a big and easy target**

**Rachel Berry: I resent that**

**Santana Lopez: Resent the fuck away. I like your nose**

**Rachel Berry: You do?**

**Santana Lopez: See? That bit of flattery could get me to home plate with you if we were single but yeah, I do**

**Rachel Berry: That's very kind of you. I'm rather sensitive about it**

**Santana Lopez: It's sorta big—who doesn't know that but it fits you. I would SO fuck anyone up in the world who touched your nose, hobbs **

**Santana Lopez: Of course, Q's nose is the prettiest of us four but she's the prettiest, too. Me and B voted. It was a landslide. You got second place, bish, and fuck you for that**

Long pause…

**Rachel Berry: Beginning to believe we're beginning to be friends**

**Santana Lopez: Shhhhhhh**

**Rachel Berry: If I may be honest and please don't tell?**

**Santana Lopez: Sure—I can actually be a vault**

Long, long pause…

**Rachel Berry: I feel safer with you than anyone except my daddy. I'd be scared for Quinn or for Brittany or even my dad in some situations but I'd feel safe with you**

**Santana Lopez: Grrrr. Don't make me gets my creys on. But yeah. Course. I got your back. And Q and B are scarier than you think**

**Rachel Berry: I know exactly how scary Quinn is**

**Santana Lopez: Actually? You really don't. Quinn's scariest is different than mine and I won't say more except you'll never see it **

**Rachel Berry: Sure?**

**Santana Lopez: As long as I'm around? Positive**

**Rachel Berry: Goodnight**

**Santana Lopez: We never said this stuff, okay? Because that would be so emo of us. But you know what camp I'm in **

**Rachel Berry: Thanks, and this has been a very long texting session. I should have called**

**Santana Lopez: De nada. And if we'd been on the phone, it'd be like it had happened, right?**

**Rachel Berry: Got it**

* * *

The deal was that, because Rachel could drive, she took Quinn's journal to Dr. Southerland's office every Monday before close of business so that the woman could read it and talk to her about it during their Tuesday appointment. Same thing Wednesday for their Thursday appointment.

When Quinn asked about the extra work, Dr. Southerland said, "A little light night reading. I have a spouse and a child but I read extraordinarily quickly and I like to give my clients double my time for their money. Not because I don't have personal and work boundaries. I care and my clients interest me or I wouldn't do what I do."

And so it was a little, or no, a lot disconcerting that Dr. Southerland called her on Monday night and said, "Quinn?"

"Dr. Southerland?"

"I have a double that I could book for you tomorrow if you have time."

"A double appointment?" Quinn immediately lowered her voice, "Is this because I did—you know…"

Dr. Southerland actually laughed, then abruptly stopped, "No. Of course not. I'm sorry I laughed and that was completely unprofessional of me but that's so very not why I was calling that it startled and amused me. It's because I think we need to talk about something that means you're really doing well. I'm very serious."

"I don't believe you."

"You don't trust me?"

"I do trust you but…"

"I laughed."

"Yes."

"I apologize. And I would like to meet the HBIC for a few minutes. That's why I'm asking for extra time."

"Well, if that's all you want, I can bring her. Always with me."

"Good. See you tomorrow and Quinn?"

"Dr. Southerland?"

"No worries. You don't have a split personality. I just want to see this person you describe."

"You might not. Like it, I mean."

"We'll see."

* * *

When Quinn walked into Dr. Southerland's office the next day, her demeanor was so different, although it was the same face and body, the doctor could scarcely believe it. The girl's eyes were cold, her expression sardonic and, as she took a seat, she stared at the doctor as if she'd never known her and certainly didn't care for her or respect her.

"You asked for me? It's still me. Like you said. It's just the HBIC."

"Is that right?"

"Yes."

"And so you want to hurt me now?"

"Maybe. I could."

"Exactly how?"

Quinn faltered, "I…could."

"Over what, Quinn? My clothes? My hair, my age—the décor in my office?"

"I could."

"And why don't you?"

"I could so easily do it that you can't even understand, Dr. Southerland. I can be the most evil bitch you've ever met. But you're my doctor and you don't get to ask me to do that like I'm some lab rat."

"That wasn't the point, Quinn."

"What the fuck was the point, then? To get me to say crazy, stupid malicious things to you because I _could _say things to you that you'd never forget, _Agnes_? I always know exactly where to stick the knife in and I've been doing it all my life."

"So why aren't you?"

"Why should I? What are you trying to do to me? Make me hurt you as I know I can? Because I'd feel like fucking shit—is that how you want me to feel? Like the monster I am?"

"Quinn, turn it off. Off course not. I do have a point. I apologize for causing you concern."

"Concern?" Quinn laughed bitterly, "Call it anguish, Dr. Southerland."

"Anguish then."

They stared at each other.

"Quinn, I find your journals some of the most deeply felt and deeply intuitive explorations of what a client's trying to find out about herself or himself I've ever read. You should be very proud of yourself for doing such hard work."

Quinn was still angry but she said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. And now we're going to work and this will be, Quinn, the part of your therapy when I think I know something you really know but don't say to yourself and and we can now discuss it. Other therapists only lead their patients forward and never give opinions, ever. Some are very effective with their patients and I acknowledge that. And perhaps you can seek another person who does something like that and beyond me when we finish. But you're my client and my equal. I'll tell you what I think but I know you're smart enough to understand that you can take all I say with a grain or even a pillar of salt, and I'm sure you'll understand that Biblical reference."

Quinn nodded.

"Let me first acknowledge how much you've grown in the lessening of your jealousy. It's been leaps and bounds in weeks and it's due to your hard work. You should be incredibly proud of yourself."

"Thank you."

"Quinn, lift your chin. You haven't been chastened like a schoolgirl. You've shown me something I asked to see."

"It still hurts."

"Of course. And what I'm going to say to you today may seem all over the place but I do have a point. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"You're still angry?"

"Of course."

"Good. I want you to remember you were angry and wanted to hurt me and I could see that in your eyes but you didn't because you respect me and I've never done you harm. But that was not exactly the point of that exercise. We'll get to that later. Let's talk about your date night."

Quinn visibly stiffened.

"Quinn? We don't have to, but I think it's important to. It's your choice and you can say stop at any time."

"What about it?"

"You gave Rachel any girl's dream, I'd think. You did an exceptional job."

Quinn half smiled, "I tried."

"I know you had a very moving time together and you wrote of it in a way that made me understand that you felt very comfortable and that Rachel's presence kept you grounded after such a profound first experience of sexual fulfillment."

"Yes."

"And I was glad to see that you felt little anxiety and fear over that event. Were you not, as well?"

"I was surprised."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have been. You're getting healthier, Quinn. About the after time, with yourself—and I know this will be very anxious-making for you? Can we talk about it?"

Quinn took deep breaths and said, "Yes."

"Understand this has nothing to do with my interest in the sexual aspect of your experience, just your emotional experience?"

"Yes?"

"As you wrote, you began to touch yourself and imagined you were touching Rachel and experiencing her obvious arousal for you, correct?"

"Yes."

"And then you wrote about something very important happening, Quinn, and we should talk about it, if you think you can."

Quinn stared at the floor for a long, long time. "I realized I wasn't touching Rachel. I was touching myself and I liked it and I just didn't care and then I decided to just enjoy it. Touching that part of myself and knowing I was aroused and just not caring because it felt good and it was my body and I liked it. And so I did it and then it was over pretty quickly."

"And you wrote the next day you were surprised it didn't feel like a sin."

"Yes."

"There is something that's very interesting about your conception of sin, Quinn."

Quinn lifted her eyes.

"This may feel confrontational to you but I assure you it's not meant that way. Will you agree to stop and ask me to clarify if you need it?"

"Of course."

"As I've asked, you've given me a very detailed and quite astute synopsis of your family's religious life. And if I may say so, without meaning to sound pejorative, it seems you've grown up in a very social and punitive version of spirituality. In other words, your family, particularly because of your father, viewed attending the correct church as something one did to keep a social standard and something that kept one in line and, somehow, less likely to commit social faux pas. Not something that gave you peace or joy or nourished your soul. Have I read you right?"

"Perfectly."

"Good. What I find deeply interesting in your journals, Quinn, about the religious aspect of your life? All of us, naturally, have individual spiritual journeys and you're on one. It's really not all that muddled and yet it is. And this will change as you challenge yourself to understand how you truly feel, and if you do believe in God, and I believe you do, you can begin to read and explore and find a context for your spirituality that feels comfortable to you. A context that brings you connection and joy and peace."

"Take a sip of water, Quinn. This isn't something that should scare you spitless."

Quinn semi-scowled at her, then semi-smiled and took a sip of the water bottle the doctor always provided.

"I truly believe that you believe that God loves you. You don't believe that God hates you for your homosexuality. You don't believe a sexual relationship with a woman is a sin."

"No."

"And yet, what is a sin, to you? I can tell you that, in a general manner of speaking, a sin in the Judeo-Christian tradition, is something that transgresses God's laws, hurts yourself or hurts others through commission or omission. And what is the Golden Rule? Do unto others as you would have them do unto you?"

Quinn nodded.

"You've described in great detail the many malicious, hurtful and painful things you've done to others. I can read real contrition and guilt in your writings and see them in your face when we speak of them. And yet? I don't believe you really think of these things as sins, do you?"

Quinn opened her mouth and Dr. Southerland said, "_No_. Quinn? Think about the question and answer it honestly."

Quinn's good leg was crossed over her bad one and her foot began to twitch. A long minute passed.

"No. I don't think of them as sins."

"I know you don't. And I find that interesting. I can think of two things this suggests to me. A—You believe a sin is only something you do that allows you to have personal, physical pleasure and B—You are following the Golden Rule and you actually _are_ doing unto others what you really would wish have done unto you, no matter how terrible it is. What does that say? "

"You tell me."

"You think physical pleasure is a sin because you enjoy it?"

"Yes."

"Hurting others isn't a sin because you don't enjoy it? And I know you don't enjoy hurting people?"

Quinn didn't answer.

They looked at each other and Dr. Southerland saw many emotions flash through Quinn's eyes. But she only said, "I think I'd like to talk about your Rachel, now."

"What about her?"

"You write about her so charmingly. She's really quite impossible and she storms around and has insecurity breakdowns that are very dramatic. But what are they?"

"I don't know."

"You do. As you've very, very tellingly written her, she storms around because she knows she deserves better treatment and feels she's worthy of it. Of course she's a child and expresses it this way and I suspect always will, even as an adult. But she completely feels her worth no matter what. You're her mirror image. How do you express your lack of worthiness? Beating people up because you wish they would or are merely forestalling the fact they should beat you up instead?"

Quinn's foot shook. "I hate you right now."

"That's to be expected."

"Quinn?"

"What?"

"Are you still in a place that you can talk to me?"

Quinn glared at her, "I'm not a pussy. Sure."

"Good. When did you begin to feel you didn't deserve things? Breathe and tell me."

Quinn felt she was going to explode because she hadn't expected this. Reality.

"I first remember feeling sad about who I was when I was three. Remember, I was Antoinette's little sister. And Toni's pretty but…"

"But what?"

"What?" Quinn paused, "And I'm not supposed to be disingenuous in this?"

"No.

"Do you think I'm attractive? Not sexually? Just in a general sense?"

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever personally met."

"Thank you. I get that a lot. Toni's six years older. Daddy's little girl. And pretty enough. But then I came along."

"And?"

"And things changed? Because look at me?" Quinn gestured at her body. "What do you think? I was pretty as a toddler. I was gorgeous. And so daddy had a new perfect representation of his family. And when I turned six? I'd already lost all my baby fat. I was pretty much what you're seeing now and growing into it and that made me rage and Toni a raging whore."

"Why did it make you angry?"

Quinn jiggled her free leg again. "I wasn't a fool. Even at six. I knew that what my father liked about me was my appearance, although not in a perverse way, granted. But I was perfect. For him. Not for me. Not as me. He didn't give a shit about me except for that. And Toni began to hate me, which I guess was fair."

"It wasn't fair, but perhaps to be expected."

"It amounts to the same thing when it happens. I was mean and angry because I knew no one saw me as anyone or anything but pretty Quinn Fabray. All through my life? I'm gorgeous! Lucky me! But you get perfect grades, no matter how much you worked for them? That's to be expected! You're perfect! You're head cheerleader, no matter how much you worked and practiced and sweated and hurt to do it? Obviously! That's to be expected! You're perfect! You date the quarterback? You're perfect! That's to be expected! You're head of the Celibacy Club? You're perfect! That's to be expected! You do all of this impossible shit that at the same time fries you completely emotionally and physically and it doesn't matter. That's to be expected! You're perfect!"

She slapped the arms of her chair.

"They never saw me! Ever! I think the only thing my father saw about me, really, and my mother when she was with him, was that I was physically attractive and what did I do to deserve that? A fucking fluke of genetics. I'm not stupid about that. Anything else I achieved was to be expected no matter how very fucking desperately I worked for it because, after all, I _was so pretty_. They never made me feel I deserved anything but accolades for my looks, which I never worked for in the first place."

Dr. Southerland quickly changed topics.

"You write quite movingly about your relationship with Rachel's fathers. What's the difference there?"

"I don't think it's because they're gay, okay, and can't see what I look like? Because they do."

Dr. Southerland nodded.

"They see me and protect me even though I'm not them. And even Rachel, who's the apple of their eyes? She's their daughter but she's not them or even a representation of them. She's separate from them. They look at her as something apart and cherished. And I've never had that in my life. Fathers who love me even if I'm not an extension of them. They treat me that way."

"You have it now, it seems. Ask me something, Quinn?"

"What?"

"Ask me something?"

Quinn swung her foot violently, "Can I get better?"

"You are getting better. Quickly. The point of our very disagreeable exercise at the beginning? I was actually happy to read about your reaction to Luke, because he deserved it. Your reaction was a little, as you say Santana says, in the red zone? But I would have loved to have seen it because that part of your personality will always be part of you. I don't believe it will ever go away. It's part of you and an angry, sad part of you isn't necessarily a bad part, okay? Just let's make it the least part and a controllable part of you. You asked me something? I'll tell you something and look at me and please believe it?"

Quinn nodded.

"You're doing spectacularly well—and therapists don't generally tell you this. But I'm proud of your progress and what you've revealed to me today and more importantly to yourself about your feelings. It's very brave, Quinn. Quite sincerely? Brava."

"And why did I ask for the HBIC? I wanted to put you up against a wall to show you that I knew you're capable of containing yourself now. Was that fair? Or fun or strictly therapeutically reasonable? No. Not a bit. But you aren't any of those things, either. Extreme people—and you don't seem so—but you are? Extreme measures. You're getting there. I apologize for hurting you that way."

Quinn stood and shook Dr. Southerland's hand, "Believe me, you got off easy, Doc."

"I believe it, Quinn. And next time we'll talk about your feelings regarding talking to Santana's priest. Among whatever else you bring to the swing."

"Cool."

"Quinn?"

"Doc?"

"A true doctor is bound by an oath to do his or her best to take of you. It might hurt? But I promise I'm taking, perhaps, eccentric care of you but very good care of you."

"I know. I can tell."

* * *

Rachel was sitting in the waiting room flipping through a magazine at the receptionist's desk when they walked out. She stood and said, "I hope you don't mind but I've locked the door. As I knew Quinn was your last appointment of the day and your receptionist had an emergency call from her babysitter, I didn't think any harm could come from my watching the phones. I took six messages and wrote them down for Rebecca. Please don't be angry with her. She didn't know I'd do that but I believe she was so flustered about the news of her child that she didn't put the answering machine on and the phone was ringing and Quinn's appointment is important as are your other patients' messages. So I answered. Naturally as my father's a physician, I understand the strict HIPAA confidentiality guidelines in taking such messages!"

Dr. Southerland looked at Quinn. Quinn looked at Dr. Southerland and said, "No seriously. This is totally what I get because I'm in love with her. I'm okay with it."

"As am I, Rachel. Thank you so much."

"I was only too happy to assist, Dr. Southerland." Rachel stood and smiled. "Wonderful. Shall we go home, Quinn?"

"Would you sing for me, Rachel?" Dr. Southerland asked out of nowhere.

"Oh dear Jesus," Quinn whispered.

"Why?"

"I've just read from Quinn's journals what a wonderful singer you are and I was wondering if I could hear you sing since we're all alone."

"I could if you have a docking station."

"Right there behind Rebecca's desk."

"Oh I was too busy figuring out how to man or woman the phones to notice!"

She loaded her iPod into it and said, "Want a show tune?"

"Oh Jesus," Quinn whispered again.

"Sure!"

"Stand back please. Volume."

And as the opening notes of "Don't Rain on My Parade" began, Quinn realized Rachel would be proving one hell of a point. Which she proceeded to.

The doctor's eyes were like eggs as she listened.

When it was over, Rachel smiled and bowed. "Don't doubt Quinn about anything she tells you regarding me, good or bad, Dr. Southerland. I'm probably both equally. But at least now you know I'm really good in at least one way. I'll be in the car, Quinn."

When Rachel had left the room, Dr. Southerland said, "Wow."

"Yeah. I'm dating her."

"And I'll see you in a couple of days. Understandably."

Quinn laughed and Dr. Southerland laughed. Understanding.


	45. Chapter 45

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**Thank you, everyone, who have reviewed and read. **

**Some Glee action. And Rachel and Quinn and a car, oh my. **

* * *

When Quinn joined Rachel in the car, Rachel said, "I hope I didn't embarrass you."

"How?"

"With your doctor. The whole singing thing?"

"Why? She asked for it and got it."

"But I did _that _song. And it was a little much. I know that."

"No worries! I was proud of you, Rachel."

"But I was…I was showing off."

"Why not? I would if I were you, sweetie."

Rachel sat with that for a moment. "God knows I know I can sing, Quinn, but I think I was trying to show someone who's important to you that I'm good enough for you."

"I'm the one working to be good enough for you, angel."

"I hope you don't really think that."

"You just voiced the very same concern."

"But—I hope you're not—"

"I'm not going to therapy for you, Rachel. It's coming in handy in our relationship and you're a real motivation but I do know I need it for me and me first."

"Good."

Quinn looked at Rachel, "And so…you're not starting the car and you're looking really nervous so what's up?"

"I purchased a present for you and I don't know if you'll like it or not."

"As long as it's not a celebratory masturbation gift, Rach, I don't think you can go wrong."

"That joke, while actually perhaps conceivable before you warned me the first time, is stale. I'll still have to explain the gift."

"Better still. I get to hear you talk."

"Don't be smart with me when I'm attempting to express sincere emotion."

"I promise I wasn't. I love listening to you, Rachel. I'm not being a smart aleck. Let's hear it and let's have a look."

Rachel pulled a small box from her bag and opened it. "I know what it looks like but let me explain, okay?"

Quinn nodded as she looked at the small golden ring in the box Rachel was holding.

"It's a Claddagh ring, which you may or may not know is Irish and neither of us are Irish although your fiery attitude occasionally gives me pause in that regard."

"_My_ fiery attitude? If anyone's Irish in this car, it isn't me."

"Hush." Rachel pulled it from the box and showed it to Quinn. "See? Two hands holding a heart. And on top of the heart? A crown. The hands symbolize friendship. The heart symbolizes what's obvious, love, and the crown? Loyalty. So I bought this for you to put on my hand if you'll accept my friendship, my heart, my loyalty and complete fidelity to you. If you do, Quinn? Because we're not getting engaged, you should put it on my right ring finger with the heart pointed toward me to tell the world someone has my heart, as you do. And every time you look at me, you'll see a symbol I'll be proud to wear that reminds you I'm yours."

Quinn stared at it for what seemed to Rachel forever. "You truly mean that?"

"Truly."

Quinn looked at the ring and sighed, "You know? Finn gave me things to wear? Sam? But no one's ever…"

"Given themselves rather than claimed you? I understand, baby. But before you put this ring on my finger, if you choose to? Realize you're accepting the gifts of my friendship, my love and my fidelity. And once you accept them, I know it will be hard for you but you should make every attempt, as I know you are in therapy, to stop questioning them, because they'll be yours and you can always look at my hand and know."

Quinn took the ring and looked at it for a long few moments before kissing it and taking Rachel's right hand, "With this ring, I…accept your friendship, your heart and your fidelity and pledge to make every minute of my life worthy of them."

She slid the ring onto Rachel's hand and they both looked at it.

"Wow," Quinn said.

Rachel smiled. "When vocabulary fails us? That's serious."

Quinn looked into Rachel's eyes, "I'm really, really serious."

"Me too."

"Wow."

"New best word!"

"What would it mean if it were on your left hand?"

"Exactly what you think it would."

"Good to know."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Accepting my gift. I know that, as one says in Christianity to give is better than to receive? In Judaism, and even in Christian texts, it's also a mitzvah to allow someone to give."

"A blessing."

"Yes. I wanted you to accept my blessing to you and to accept it returns it to me more than you can know."

Quinn smiled at the ring on her girlfriend's hand, "You know that I know you love me but I can't help thinking you also know that it's good for me to have visuals."

"Exactly."

"Smart girl."

* * *

"Britts?"

"San?"

"Is it sorta dumb to be worried about Q and the hobbs? It's like been hours since we talked to them."

"Q had therapy. And maybe they're making out or something."

"Please. How much making out can they do? We both know they're stuck at first base."

"Yeah. Well, that's cool I think."

"Why?"

Brittany pulled her face off of Lord Tubbington's stomach where she was blowing on it and trying to make him giggle, which she insisted he could. "Why what?"

"Why's that cool?"

"They might not be ready for sex yet."

Santana sat with that for a few moments, "Do _you_ feel bad that we're…"

"Of course not. You've been my lover like since forever and we've been having sexy times for years. I'm glad Quinn's going to the doctor because she's sort of been unhappy and messed up about it."

"Why do you think?" Santana always enjoyed it when Brittany was in a reflective mood. Brittany didn't answer right away. She rubbed her face through her dozing cat's fur again. Santana knew better than to think that Lord Tubbington was smoking pot but he was such an intensely lazy and laid back guy she'd decided years before that he was completely high on Brittany.

"I don't really know, San, except she's super weird about herself and you know she's my second bestie and I don't mean that mean. She doesn't like herself very much and so much it totally makes me want to cry sometimes. I think a lot of it is because she hates everyone making such a big deal about being so pretty. It's really cool for us because it's so nice to look at her and stuff but it's not cool for her. That's why I try not to say that so much around her. Like of course I'll say she's slammin' to other people but to her I say her hair looks nice or like maybe her sweater's nice—not stuff about her face or body. I mean, you'd totally think if someone said you were pretty that you'd be happy but have you ever noticed when people say that to her she says thank you but her eyes go all blank like you just erased her chalkboard or something?"

Santana thought about the perfect truth and sadness of that and said, "Yeah."

"Growing up with Q taught me something I do at my dance classes with the kids at the shelter."

"What's that?"

"Every time I see them, I try to think of something nice I can tell all the kids about themselves except never about the way they look. I think it's sort of bad to talk to kids about what they look like instead of how cool they are in other ways."

"I think you're right."

"I know I am. I'm right a whole lot."

Santana smiled. "I've known that since the day I met you."

Brittany smiled, "When we were three?"

"What can I say about my baby? Child prodigy."

* * *

The next two weeks in Glee became so contentious that Will could scarcely believe it. Quinn could entirely believe it. She watched Rachel watching it and, although she was feeling increasingly more confident about their relationship, she didn't know exactly how to phrase her reaction to the girl's continued indifference to how the club was acting. She finally made her attempt on their way home from a particularly stormy Glee session and quickly realized she was still a work in progress in the tact department.

"Rachel?"

"Quinn?"

"About Glee?"

"Yes. What about it?"

"Do you remember, in the first days when we were friends I talked to you about what happens when there's a vacuum of power in a room? In the sense that, for example, if I completely stopped intimidating people, worse people were available?"

"Of course."

"That's what's happening in Glee."

"I don't take your point."

"Your lack of bullying in Glee is making everyone insane."

"I was never a bully!"

"Fine! Call it megalomania—whatever. It's like you're enjoying watching this epic fail!"

Rachel pulled the car over, "I'm not particularly enjoying it, thank you very much, but why is it my fault?"

"Hello? You're the captain?"

"Again, why does that fact make their poor behavior my fault?"

Quinn stared at her, "Okay. Head cheerleader incoming. Part of a captain's job? And I'm not saying you have to enjoy it or get off on it but occasionally? Part of a captain's job is to kick some non-commissioned ass. Or _you're not doing your job_. I can see, and don't think I can't and don't even try to pretend otherwise, that you're just a little bit enjoying what's going on. Because you are. And, frankly Rachel, it's beneath you."

Quinn watched fury coming to a boil behind Rachel's eyes and said quietly and quickly, "And before you unleash on me? Realize that before I went into therapy, before I started making all the really fucking painful effort I've made to feel I even deserve to be in the same room with you? I would never in a million years have thought I had the right to question you or call you out on anything. At all. So it might piss you off but it represents progress for me. But go ahead—take your shot."

For a few moments Quinn was not quite sure Rachel's head wasn't going to pop off. The tiny girl finally slapped her hands on the steering wheel and shouted. "Quinn!"

"Rachel!"

"I'll have you know I find it intensely dissatisfying to be unable to perform a diva storm out because I'm strapped into a car! Especially when you're right and I'm wrong! That makes it doubly worse and I will probably be impossible to deal with for at least an hour!"

They were both startled to hear a rap on Rachel's window.

Rachel rolled her window down and it was suddenly déjà vu. "Officer Miller. We meet again."

"Yes, ma'am—you need to put your hazards on. You're not exactly legally parked here."

"I apologize but I'm having an angry moment."

He squatted down to look at them. "I can see that—but you know what happened last time."

"I can assure you I won't be kissing Quinn for at least an hour."

"Huh. Really? That bad?"

"It's worse than you can believe! We're arguing and she's right!"

He gave a low whistle. "That _is _bad. Quinn?"

"Yes sir?"

"Word to the wise—and I've been married a long, long time?"

"Yes sir?"

"Always apologize when your woman's wrong."

"Really?"

"_Especially_ when she's wrong."

"Got it."

"Okay, you two. Rachel? Put your hazards on if you think you need to calm down for a couple of minutes but then take it home."

"It?"

"The making up part."

"Oh. Right. Thank you, Officer Miller. Give my warm regards to your wife."

"Will do. Later, Quinn."

She gave him a dazzling smile, "Thank you, sir. I look forward to meeting you on every single street in Lima before we leave for college."

He winked at both of them and strode back to his car.

"He's a very pleasant man."

"He is. And I'm really sorry, Rachel."

"I want to make up with you so much right now."

"Me too. Take me home."

* * *

The next day, when Will walked into Glee with a sense of dread, he immediately felt like his ship was listing even worse than it had been and perhaps was seriously going to sink. Rachel wasn't there.

He mustered a smile and said, "Okay guys, let's take it from—"

At that moment, Rachel burst into the room. "I apologize for my tardiness. My lab partner spilled our experiment on the floor and, naturally, as his partner I felt it incumbent upon me to help him clean up what we'll have to replicate for the sole reason he lost his mind because Misty Hemingway bent over in a scandalously short skirt."

Every person in the room looked at her skirt.

"Yes. Well. Be that as it may, I'm not exactly stupid. If someone drops a pencil and one feels compelled to pick it up to be polite when one is wearing a skirt? One stoops to pick it up. One does not bend over. It's not rocket science."

"Totally," Brittany said, "I mean I'm me right? But I still learned that in, like, in third grade? But me and San play pick up the pencil at home."

"OhmyGod! Britts!"

Rachel smirked at Santana and said, "I'm experiencing intense feelings of love for you right now, Brittany."

"I super love you too, Rach."

Santana looked at Quinn and said, "It's like we're not even here, right?"

Before Quinn could answer, Rachel said, "As I said, I sincerely apologize for my tardiness and the interruption, Mr. Schue, but I have something to say about Regionals, if you don't mind?"

Her bright demeanor cheered him immediately. "Of course."

"As your captain, I've made the decisions about our assignments. You've obviously put a tremendous amount of work into your pieces and I'm sure all of us have appreciated and enjoyed your performances. However? Tina will be our soloist, Noah and Lauren will do our duet and Mercedes, Finn and Kurt will share the spotlight in our group number. Now that it's been decided, I believe we can let Brittany, Michael and Matthew begin their magic in choreography and we can polish them so that they're perfect for competition!"

"Excuse me? Who died and left you queen?"

"Don't you remember? Everyone abdicated, Mercedes. Who's the captain of the team?"

"You—but still."

"But still. You didn't want the job. I took it. Don't question me. You haven't been left out."

"My solo's better."

"Your solo's obvious. It's exactly what you fall back on—what's easy for you."

"Like you don't, Ms. Streisand?"

"Fair enough, Ms. Motown. And wait for it? I'm not singing the solo. And guess what? You're not singing the solo, either. Tina's piece is beautiful and challenging and it's not the obvious diva showstopper you or I or Kurt would choose. It's something the judges will be surprised by. Because when I think of it from their points of view? How many times can you have your ears blown off in one competition? Wouldn't it be interesting to have something to be able to ease into and enjoy? Something unexpected by an amazing and accomplished singer like Tina? Likewise, the piece with Noah and Lauren. Although Lauren, and I know you'll allow me to speak frankly to you although you could body-slam me with your pinkie?"

"Sure. Hit it, dwarf."

"You're certainly not our strongest singer but you have a very interesting chemistry with Noah and your insouciance paired with his more heartfelt and gentle singing, which seems counter-intuitive to both your female/male dynamic and to you as people, are tremendously compelling. Although all of our duet contenders were wonderful, I truly feel this is an unexpected and lovely choice of a song and performers and that your chemistry is something that we should invest in."

"About the group piece? Obviously, we'll start in Finn's range and then, you, Mercedes and Kurt, can scale it an octave above and the rest of us can do the harmonies."

Will looked around the room and, although Mercedes was having her predictable flair-up, he could see that the rest of the kids, no matter who'd been personally disappointed, looked oddly and completely more at ease. Or maybe not. Rachel's being overbearing and dictatorial in Glee felt extremely comfortable—even comforting. Even to him.

"Okay, guys! Our captain called it. Let's get to work."

"You're seriously listening to her?"

"I know I am," Kurt said as he stood, "We will _kill_ it in the group piece, Mercedes!"

And because everyone seemed perfectly willing to listen to Rachel, even her boy, Mercedes realized she really had only one choice. "Fine. Whatever."

Brittany saw the dejected look on Mercedes' face and said, "I just had like the most monster idea! Mercedes? In our group number, you'll be my base for a flip—like me with Mike. It'll look epic!"

Mercedes jerked her head back and said, "Girl? I love you but you have got to be kidding me."

"No—it wouldn't be like what Mike does for me or me for him—like real lifting. I mean you'd seriously be just standing there—it's not a biggie but it'll look like you did something totally killer."

"No—thanks for the idea but I don't think I can do that."

"Sure you can. I'll prove it. I'll do it with Rach."

Rachel's eyes widened comically. "Although I'm naturally willing to learn new choreography, I understand Mercedes' trepidation. We are quite different in stature than Michael—"

Brittany interrupted, "Actually it's better the smaller you are, so I don't have to jump as high. Alright—I'll do it with San. San's totally smaller than you are, Rach, and she can be my base." And then she froze, staring into the air as she realized what she'd said.

Santana was actually horrified by this revelation, which she truly didn't understand was no revelation to anyone at all. But she wasn't about to let Brittany feel badly about what only they considered spilling the beans about her size.

"Excuse me, Mr. Schue, for the language? Yeah. So the fuck what? I weigh five or six pounds less than my midget. I'm technically, I guess, probably maybe actually, in a way, about the smallest person in this school. Whatever. I can fuck up every single one of you if you push me. Puck?"

"Santana?"

"Am I lying?"

He immediately saw her dilemma, understood completely what it meant to her and told a story he'd never told anyone because it made him feel like a wuss, although it was completely true, "You kiddin' me? Hell no. She snuck up on me once for some smartass thing I said to Britts when we were eleven years old and slammed me in the side of my head with her skateboard so hard she gave me seven stitches and a concussion. That's how San rolls. She plays hardball if you mess with her or Britts."

She winked at him. "Damn straight. Here's the deal. I'm gonna stand, just watch, one foot back a bit—get a little bit of grounding—and Britts will do the work. She's a damned gymnast and you're not even really a base. She's basically doing a flip over an obstacle, which is you. It just looks cool and you're just like the floor she's pressing down on for only a second. And yeah, it's weird the first time you feel it? But she weighs, like, 40 pounds more than me—like nearly half my body weight more and I can totally deal. Go Britts."

Brittany ran toward Santana and although she placed her hands on the girl's shoulders, it was only as she was already effortlessly performing a flip over Santana.

"See?_ De nada_. Wanna try, Frodo?"

"I would like to attempt this although I'm more frightened for Brittany than for myself."

"Why?"

"What if I crumple and you fall, Brittany?"

"What if I'm sort of a world-class athlete like Irena says, Rach?"

"Oh. Well. That's true."

"Spot her, San."

Santana positioned Rachel with her feet placed appropriately. "Just wait for her and it'll feel like a lot of pressure on your shoulders but it's not her body weight at all and it's for literally only one second. Relax into it, keep your knees slightly bent and absorb everything in your legs. She won't hurt you, okay?"

"Okay."

As Will watched, he realized he was watching a tremendous team-building, trust-building exercise he couldn't have dreamed of or authorized.

As Brittany ran toward her, Will saw on Rachel's face the same horrified expression she'd worn witnessing a particularly tone-deaf person auditioning for Glee. Brittany effortlessly nailed it again.

Rachel clapped her hands. "I did it! I mean—you did it but I helped! It's so exciting!" Rachel looked at her with such a wildly adoring expression that Quinn said, "Can we get you two a room?"

"No, but you can kiss your ring, Quinn," Rachel said, offering her right hand.

Quinn kissed the ring and then kissed her quickly and gently on the lips, the first time they'd kissed in front of the club.

"That's what I'm talking about—more of that."

"Shut up, Puck." Santana said, "When the kissing starts, I wanna reach for a revolver. Now, Chocolate? Woman up. My baby won't hurt you or herself. Ready?"

Mercedes readied herself and it was over in seconds and she had to laugh. "No way. Just NO _WAY_! Girl, it's so much better being in on it than watching it—I can't believe it. I seriously cannot imagine what that must feel like to do it. But to be part of it? It's like serious up? It's magic. You are the bomb, Britts. That's crazy."

"Thanks. But it's totally easy if you, like, I guess train for eleven years. The cool part, Mercedes, is if we do it in the song, everybody seeing it will think you did half of it, which will look pretty amazing and your parents will probably flip out themselves just watching it."

"I'm all for it then. I can see it on the marquee now! Mercedes Jones, gymnast." With good humor restored, everyone began to speak at once but Artie spoke up through their excitement. "Brittany?"

"Artie?"

"Could you do it with me in the chair? I mean, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself but I'd just like to see what it's like."

"Sure I can. Put your brakes on and take your hands off your armrests?"

He did as she asked. "Mike? Let's do a double double for him. Me first."

She flipped over him, then Mike, then her then Mike and they both grinned at him.

"That was so awesome! Thanks, guys."

"You know, Santana," Puck said, "if you and Britts would do that naked for me, I'd totally let you hit me in the head with your skateboard again."

"If you talk about Britts naked again, I'll hit you for free, bitch."

"Where is the love?"

They smiled at each other even as Will clapped his hands, "Great team-building, guys! Now let's get down to business."

* * *

As they got into Rachel's car to go home after a very productive club meeting, Quinn said, "I'm proud of you, Rachel. You showed real leadership and you were tough but fair."

Rachel smiled broadly, "Thank you, Quinn, I was proud of myself and I must say that I appreciate your helping me see the errors in my thinking and behavior. I know only a true friend would do that."

Quinn put her hand on Rachel's thigh only the slightest bit above her knee, "I am your true friend but my thoughts aren't really friendly right now."

"They're not?" Rachel swallowed hard as Quinn traced light circles on her skin.

"Not so much. I happen to think tough but fair is a very, very sexy look for you."

The way Quinn was looking at her made beads of sweat form on Rachel's neck, "Really?"

"Really," Quinn whispered as she slid her hand a few inches to the side so that her fingertips were resting more on the inner part of the girl's leg and continued to trace light feathery circles. Rachel looked down at the hand on her leg and the caress was so close to her knee it really wouldn't necessarily have to be considered sexual at all but she was stunned by how quickly her whole existence could be focused on those few inches of skin.

"You know what I wish, Rachel?" Quinn's voice was very quiet.

"What?" Rachel glanced at Quinn, who was staring at her own hand.

"Where my fingers are right now?"

"Yes," Rachel whispered.

"I wish it were my mouth."

Rachel exhaled sharply. Okay, _that_ was sexual. She felt her face flush.

"Wouldn't that be nice?" Quinn's voice remained quiet but sounded almost purely conversational as she let her hand drift only the slightest bit upward and inward on Rachel's leg and continued her maddening circles, "To have me kiss you right here?"

Rachel looked at Quinn, who glanced at her, this time. Her eyes were full of desire and she gave Rachel the tiniest affectionate smile. "Don't you think so?"

"Yes."

Quinn returned her attention to her hand, watching it as if mesmerized. "I'd let down my hair so you'd feel that brushing over your legs and your skin's a little chilly so…by contrast, my mouth would feel very warm…" She looked up into Rachel's eyes, "And wet."

Rachel whispered, "Very wet."

"Hmmm," Quinn sighed before giving Rachel a ghost of a smile, "I think we understand each other perfectly."

"I know we do…so it'd be a shame to stop kissing me there," Rachel whispered as she shifted lower in her seat slightly, causing Quinn's hand to be shifted effectively inches higher.

"I concur. Especially since, while that might be part of the journey, it certainly would not be my destination."

Time seemed to completely stop as they stared at each other through an absolute haze of desire.

Which is why both of them jumped like they'd been shot when they heard loud knock on the window.

* * *

"JESUS!" Quinn half-screamed as they looked at the source of the intrusion, a broadly smiling Brittany.

Quinn rolled down her window. "You scared the shit out of us Britts! You okay?"

"That's what I came to ask you guys. I thought you must have a spider!"

"A _what_?"

"Well, you were sitting and looking down at something and then you were looking at each other all weird and didn't really seem to be talking much. It totally looked like that time there was that ginormous spider in your car between you and San in the front seat and I was in the back and you were both staring at it because you didn't want it to jump on you and were sort of whispering, "You get it—no fuck you bitch you get it—the hell you say—you get it and then I just finally had to catch it for you. So I came to catch it."

Rachel nodded, "That's certainly very kind of you to offer your assistance but we were actually just talking. No spider."

Brittany stared at their faces for a few moments. "Oh I get it—you were having some sort of sexy times. And that's cool and all but don't do it in the parking lot at school. I mean, _anybody_ could walk up. Like me!"

"Thank you, Brittany. That's very wise counsel. I think I'll take Quinn home now and thanks again for offering to help."

"Yeah, thanks, B. That was really sweet."

"No probs—see you tomorrow."

Rachel smacked her forehead and laughed, "We actually have homes where we can close doors and we keep doing this!"

"It was fun, though, before the cold shower."

"It was great, but I'll have you know I'm still pretty hot."

"Yes, you are."

There was silence for a few minutes as they drove and Rachel finally asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what exactly."

"Let's see. The first thing that pops into my mind is the slightly risqué conversation we just had alluding to the fact you'd like to perform cunnilingus on me?"

"Well, I would like to and I'm certain one day I will unless you really don't want me to. Does it upset you to hear that?"

"I'm not upset at all, Quinn. Wildly aroused is more like it. I was just really surprised. You usually don't—no, let me rephrase, you _never_ talk like that."

Quinn shrugged, "You just look really sexy today, Rachel, and I've been working on developing more confidence and acceptance of my thoughts and feelings regarding sex and intimacy and I just thought what the hell. You're my girlfriend and we're in love with other and we'll eventually have a sex life together when we're both ready for it. What's wrong with telling you what I think about or experiences I want to share with you?"

"Not a thing. So I can expect more of the same?"

"When the mood strikes, of course, and you should feel free to do the same."

"I suppose we know what our main topics of conversation will be now."

"Show tunes and sex."

"Right."

* * *

**I'd love to know what you thought!**


	46. Chapter 46

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Warning up for violence in this one but remember I don't do angst so everything's going to be just fine. I don't even consider that a spoiler. **

It had been two weeks since that momentous discussion in the car and Rachel had been vexed beyond her ability to express that Quinn hadn't taken the opportunity to do or at least say a little more in the same vein. They'd continued to kiss and so passionately that both of them had had quite successful conclusions and yet they remained completely clothed and at a standstill.

They were studying in bed one late afternoon, both of them on their stomachs reading their textbooks, when Rachel finally closed her book with a resounding thud. Quinn didn't look away from her book but understood the sound and said, "Yes, Rachel?"

"Do you still want me sexually?"

Quinn had learned not to be surprised by anything that came out of Rachel's mouth so she only glanced at her bedmate, "How can you even ask that, sweetie, after what we've been doing and quite frequently, I might add?"

"I take your point. But that aside? You haven't—I mean—you said you'd talk to me in a certain way when the mood struck you and you haven't spoken to me in that way and so perhaps the mood is gone or hasn't struck you and perhaps I've been benched in what Noah calls the friendzone. What am I supposed to think about this, Quinn?"

Quinn smiled what even Rachel in her very bad mood had to classify a lazily sexy smile. "Our mutual clothed orgasms aside, which I assure you are completely outside the friendzone for me? And I can only hope for the sake of my therapy and sanity are for you as well? You're basically asking me why I haven't talked dirty to you lately?"

Rachel sniffed, then huffed, then answered, "Of _course _I don't participate in such sexual behavior with anyone but you, which rather negates or nearly explodes my point, I suppose, but that is, well—yes. Why don't you?"

"Sweetheart."

"Yes?"

"Why haven't you talked dirty to me? The door's open. I kicked it open and you haven't walked through it."

Rachel's brow furrowed. "To be honest, I don't believe I know how to talk that way and you obviously have an incredibly unforeseen talent at it. I don't like doing things I don't know how to do in front of people I love and esteem who can do them far better than I."

Quinn rolled over onto her back and smiled at Rachel again, "Gotcha. Performance anxiety, huh?"

"Yes. I don't deal well with it. You should know better than anyone how anxious I get when—"

"Shhhh, Frodo."

Rachel stopped speaking and looked into Quinn's eyes, which were filled with such love she felt like a fool for even asking the question in the first place, "C'mere, little hobbit."

Quinn wrapped an arm around Rachel as the girl immediately cuddled up to her. As Rachel rested her head on Quinn's shoulder, Quinn kissed the top of it, and spoke very softly. "Sweetheart, I think about it all the time. But I don't think it's a fluke that some of our most passionate moments have been in cars or when we know our parents are about to come home. It's not just the whole exciting 'forbidden fruit—better grab it while we can' aspect of it. We're putting the brakes on ourselves. If I talk to you that way while we're alone, we're going to go from zero to 120 miles per hour in about three minutes and that's not really what I want. You need to remember we're already sexual partners to a certain degree but our real first time? I've thought about it and I've come up with a list of things that I think would make me comfortable—and perhaps you, too."

"Really? A list?"

Quinn almost laughed at the tremendously pleased sound of that question because, right up there with raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, a list was one of Rachel's favorite things.

"A list."

"That's very forward-thinking of you, Quinn! I must say that it hadn't occurred to me to make such a list but I wholeheartedly approve of your making one."

"Thank you, Rachel. Would you like to hear it?"

Rachel nodded on Quinn's shoulder and hugged her more tightly, "Certainly."

"Alright. Here's the list and remember that you have a right of veto or amendment, okay?"

"Okay."

"The first time we make love, I don't want our parents in the vicinity."

"That's a given."

"Well, let me explain. I don't mean I just don't want them in the house—I mean like out of town not in the house. I don't want any anxiety about 'we have four hours to get this done because our dads went to dinner and a movie.' I want to know that we can take our time with each other and learn to love each other at our own pace. I think that would take the 'we really don't know how to do this but we'd better figure it out really, really damned quick' feelings out the equation. Does that make sense?"

"Completely."

"Okay, on with the list. In either house with parents out of town, if we've made the decision to make love, I don't want to make out with you on the couch like teenagers and fumble around over the clothing, then under the clothing and stupid stuff like that. I want to just go to the bedroom and take our clothes off. I'll amend that a little. I know that, although I don't have much modesty undressing, I'll be too nervous to take off my clothes in some sort of sex-kitten way for you. Don't expect that."

Rachel thought about this for a moment and then said, "I understand this. My sex-kitten factor is probably in the negatives."

"Your sex-kitten factor is actually nearly freakishly and astronomically high, Rach, but I wouldn't ask that of you for our first time. Can we agree it might be a good idea, during our first time, to take off our clothes without particularly trying to look alluring to the other, as if we were just going to take a shower?"

Rachel sighed contentedly, "Thank you for the compliment and that is an excellent part of this list."

"You're welcome and I'm glad you think so. Now on to the lighting and sound."

"The lighting and sound? You've given thought to such things? I'm tremendously impressed."

"Nothing if not thorough. I _am_ dating Rachel Berry. Lighting. I'm thinking candles would be nice. I want to be able to see you and for you to be able to see me. I want to be able to look into your beautiful eyes. So I think candles. They're not only romantic, they're warm and they make you look prettier than you sometimes feel."

Rachel, who'd learned both in their courtship and from Brittany's rather rapier-pointed discussions with her forcing her to understand that too much focus on Quinn's physical appearance was truly not a happy thing, said, "Yes, it will be like be seeing me through gauze over a camera lens. I approve."

"Not you, you donkey. Me. You'd look good in fluorescent lighting—which is damned hard to do."

"I'm teasing. Candlelight is beautiful and a very good idea."

"As for the sound, nothing. I'm sorry about this one thing but I won't take a veto on it. I don't want music. I just want to hear you and me. I think those would be the happiest, most loving and sexiest sounds we could hear. I don't want to have some ridiculous song on, no matter how epic it is, during some really special moment between us. Later, when we're used to each other, we can have all the music you want to. Make a Quinn-Rachel sex mix, I don't care. First time, though, is music free."

"Music free it is. Any other items?"

"Yes. I imagine our parents going away on a Friday afternoon to leave our Friday night free. I think we should have a larger lunch than usual. I'll make sure we have some vegan sushi for a very late dinner because I don't think I'll be interested in dinner for a long, long time when I get you alone."

"Even a menu. This is very thorough, Quinn. I completely approve."

"I told you. I think about it all the time."

"It makes me happy that you think about it."

"It makes me feel more than happy to think about it."

"How does it make you feel?"

"You know but we're not going there. You need a nap."

"Why do you say that?"

"Your voice changes when you're sleepy."

"I will admit that worrying whether I was still sexually alluring to you has been very enervating to me."

"Naturally. Catch a few winks and I'll be here when you wake up."

"Alright. If you're sure you don't mind?"

"Of course not."

It was a matter of minutes before Rachel was softly snoring and Quinn kissed her head. Rachel was a nap princess. If she needed a nap, she napped even for ten minutes and then would wake, fully refreshed and instantly ready to lead an army into battle, if need be. Quinn admired this about her, which had to be innate but also something her dads had allowed her to keep about herself. She said what she thought, acted the way she felt and listened to what her body told her. These were such strange concepts to Quinn that dealing with Rachel was sometimes like dealing with a stranger from a very different land. She was far enough along in her emotional growth, however, to know that she was actually the alien—to herself.

After about thirty minutes, in which Quinn had picked up her book and continued to read, Judy knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Judy was just a little shocked to see a sleeping Rachel wrapped around her daughter.

"Dinner's almost ready," she whispered.

Quinn replied in a completely conversational tone, "You don't have to whisper, Mom. She sleeps like a rock. And listen…she snores like great-aunt Jane's pug puppy."

Judy smiled as she listened. "It's eerily similar."

"I know right?"

The two Fabray women smiled at each other and then stared at each other.

"Is this weird for you, mom?"

"What?"

"I guess if you ever imagined me with someone I loved just studying or napping on a bed, I'd be wrapped up around some tall, dark and handsome guy."

"You got the dark and attractive part."

"Mom, be serious."

Judy stepped closer to the bed. "It's not…weird. _No_. I promised myself to be honest with you from the time that man moved out of our house. Of course. It's a little weird. To see you with a woman and know that's how I'll always see you. With a _woman_, not a man. It _is_ different, Quinn. And are you serious when you say she's still asleep?"

"Like I said—like a rock."

Judy sat on the bed and put one hand on Rachel's foot.

"Let me tell you how I think of it, okay?"

Quinn nodded.

"I'm still a little stunned, I guess. But I promise you I'm not horrified or disgusted or angry. Seeing you like this is nothing more than a surprise and, yes, it's just a little weird and takes some getting used to. But it's just like the blue milk on Tatooine. White milk is my standard and when I first saw that blue milk I thought it was weird but after a little time, I began to think it was the best thing I'd ever seen."

Quinn lifted a hand, "Oh my God, dear Jesus. Hold please. Did you just make a completely random _Star Wars_ reference?"

Judy shrugged, "The original _Star Wars_ came out before you were born, sweetheart. I was there. I watched it 39 times in the theater before your grandparents found out and made me stop."

"Why don't I know this about you?"

"Because we never talked. But now we do and we can find out all sorts of different things about each other, right?"

Quinn smiled and said, "Yes we can, mommy."

Quinn next to never called her mother mommy and they smiled at each other.

"Wanna see something scary, mom?"

"I…_guess_."

"Rachel is completely asleep. Watch this."

Quinn shook Rachel gently, "Rachel, Rachel, time to wake up."

Rachel slightly frowned and hugged her tighter but the snoring continued. "This is what I have to contend with. Stand back because this girl has a flip-switch. Asleep or awake."

Judy got off the bed and watched as Quinn shook Rachel and said very loudly, "Dinner time! Mom needs help!"

To Judy's astonishment, Rachel suddenly launched herself from the bed and looked around, "Hello, Judy! That was a very restorative nap! I'll wash my hands because I believe our textbooks are completely germ-laden. How couldn't they be? I look forward to assisting you in preparations for our meal!"

As Rachel passed by her, Judy gaped at Quinn. Both of them were nearly ruminant zombies before three cups of coffee after even fifteen minutes of sleep.

Judy said, "No, Quinn. _Really_?"

"I'm telling you, mom, seeing the evidence you know have to know I love a girl if I put up with her when she wakes up like that. It's like an electric nail-driver in my head."

"Keep thinking blue milk, Quinn."

"I will."

* * *

Quinn's cast came off days later and it was not all that momentous and yet it was. When Rachel drove her home, she felt a bit decimated, because she'd been important and she was still frightened that perhaps that wouldn't be true after Quinn was healthy, no matter how many times she was reassured.

Not fifteen minutes after Rachel had delivered Quinn to her mother's home, the doorbell rang.

Judy answered, "Irena."

"Yes. I have heard from my love that Quinn has been released from her cast. I can help with this."

Judy allowed her into her home, as Rachel and Quinn were talking about everything and nothing.

"Child."

Quinn's blood ran a little cold. "Yes?"

"I have come to help you."

"Why would you do that?'

"You are my beloved's friend, are you not?"

"_Whatever_. How can you help?"

"Quinn!"

Ms. Sokoll raised a hand, "Judy, it is nothing."

She turned to Quinn and said, "You will never say _whatever _to me again. I am your elder and your better, Quinn. We both know this. _Whatever_ is a sign of disrespect. Do you think, in the eleven years I have taught Brittany and Michael, they have ever shown me such disrespect? I will answer you. Never. You have better manners than to speak this way. Apologize to me now."

Quinn stared at her for a long, long time before she said, "You're right. I apologize, Ms. Sokoll."

"Good. Accepted. That is done. Walk for me, child."

"What?"

"Walk, no shoes, to show me what you are after this injury."

Quinn walked back and forth over the living room floor, with a slight limp and Irena shook her head. "As I thought. Judy, please get me towels and a pair of socks so that I can start to make this foot what it should be."

Judy fetched two towels and a pair of socks. Irena put the towels under Quinn's foot that she'd rested in her lap. "You don't have to like me, Quinn. In fact, I know you don't. But I am Bolshoi. I have known the care of feet since I was four years old. Your foot has been shocked and surprised by an injury—and you are no true dancer. It has been injured and caged for months and so it is very shy to relax and be the foot it was. It will be painful to show it what it still is."

Quinn glared at her but didn't speak.

"Much like the pain you suffer freeing other parts of you that have been caged and forced into casts in other ways?"

Quinn took the point and continued to glare at her but nodded. "Do it."

"You are very brave."

"No, I'm not. But I'm willing."

"Occasionally, child, it amounts to the same thing."

Irena pulled a vial of massage oil out of her bag and said, "This will be painful, Quinn." She looked at Rachel and Judy. "Do not disturb us. This is necessary. I will not hurt this child. I have nearly 70 years feeling and treating these things. Don't say a word."

Irena poured oil on Quinn's foot. "Cry out if you need to. But you will cry. This is a fact."

As Irena began to massage her foot, it felt fantastic…for a long while before the woman did something she didn't understand and then every part of her body wanted to kick away but looking at the woman's calm face, she just breathed as if she were giving birth to the particularly painful child she'd already given birth to.

"Ms. Sokoll?"

"Yes, Quinn."

"This sucks."

"I agree." The woman put long, probing strokes over exactly the place Quinn's foot had been injured.

"Please! Please don't!"

"Please what? Don't hurt you where you're most hurt? I will certainly stop if you don't want me to continue. But it's the only thing to help I promise you—I will make your sad foot remember its injury, feel it fully, feel less frightened of it, less trapped by it and then let it go. Much like everything about our bodies and our minds. Say yes or no."

There was a long silence before Quinn said, "Yes."

"Again, you are a very brave child."

Quinn was soon sobbing tears of pain and Judy and Rachel were crying and forcing themselves not to intervene. Irena's eyes were dry. "Crying is good. Quinn Fabray. I have cried so much in my life it is impossible to believe. To help people cry reasonably is good. Very good."

Finally, finally she released Quinn's foot and put the socks Judy had brought over the girl's feet.

"Walk now, child. You will be surprised, I promise this."

Quinn wiped her eyes, stood and walked back and forth over the length of the room and then laughed in complete surprise, "Oh my God. It feels so much better!"

"Yes. Your foot will be restored to you. I will have to hurt you perhaps ten more days in this way and then I will teach you gentle ways to continue to help yourself. I will come tomorrow. I'm sure your other physical therapy will also help you in its way and you might come to a good outcome over many, many months but they will baby you. I know this. I am more brutal but I know the injury and have had the work done to me and done it to others myself for decades. I have broken both of my feet a number of times. And I've have had to dance with them so. One can do this, you know, if one needs bread. I will certainly make your foot what it was. You have a very, very simple injury that should leave no lasting problem but it is one that could remain so if coddled in recovery. Dancers rarely have horizontal compression injuries, but your foot is acting like any angry foot. I will teach you pain that will astonish you but the pain will not injure you and you will walk not around it but through it and out of it. It is the way anyone heals anything."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you helping me?"

The woman shrugged, "It is nothing to do for the friend of my friend and two hours of time for ten days and teaching you to help yourself will make a difference to your life and very quickly. I have no doubt you will do something like this, in your own way, for someone in the future and I will look down from heaven or look up from hell, according to God's decision. And I will smile."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome."

"May I get you something to drink, Irena? Some tea?"

"No but thank you, Judy. I have to be home to take a call from Russia. On Skype. This Skype is very useful. Quinn, you must drink at least a quart of water before bedtime and you must ice your foot. It will feel wonderful for perhaps an hour and then be very sore after such treatment. Use your cane and play at limping for the next ten days and then you won't need it again."

"Rachel."

"Ms. Sokoll?"

"Do not break Quinn's foot again."

Rachel's mouth dropped open and she stamped her foot and glared at Quinn, "You told Brittany?"

Quinn was just as startled as Rachel. "NO! Of course not! Why would you think that, Ms. Sokoll?"

The older woman's mouth held a shadow of a smile, "Despite the fact you just verified my supposition? You, tiny one, do not look so much worried about your sweetheart's foot although you are. You look very, very guilty."

Judy looked from Irena to Rachel to Quinn. "Let me get this right? Rachel broke your foot?"

Irena smiled, "On that note, I will leave. Is this time good for you tomorrow, Quinn?"

"Yes. But thanks so much for smacking this hornet's nest and leaving."

"Nothing you have not done all of your life, I would imagine."

"You make a good point."

"I always do. And Judy, I can promise you this was an accident. It will be too ridiculous to believe I am sure, but Rachel is a morbidly guilty child. That is why it is so easy to see. Keeping it from you makes her feel sorrowful. Better she has it in the open. It will heal this way. I will see you all tomorrow. Good day."

As Judy closed the door and turned to the girls, "Okay. We start with the fact that Rachel broke your foot."

"Mom! It was like this…"

After a discussion, a meal and a couple of hours, they were all watching House Hunters on HGTV and Quinn had an icepack wrapped around her foot.

Everything was fine.

* * *

Actually everything _was_ fine. Glee was fine, Quinn's foot was fine after the torture rack it had been put upon for ten days running. It was healing better than Quinn could have imagined.

Everything was fine until Burt Hummel and Finn happened to meet Rachel as she was paying for a prescription at their pharmacy's counter. Finn immediately took three steps back. "Hi Rach."

"Hi, Finn. Hi, Mr. Hummel. Just here to get my dad's dermatitis cream. He has dry skin. Naturally, I wouldn't say something about it if it were medically compromising but it's not." She smiled at Finn and said, "Your singing today in the group number was superlative, Finn. I can't thank you enough for all of your hard work. As your captain and your friend, I'm so very proud of your effort and you should be as well."

Her enthusiasm was so warm and so genuine and the fact that she'd called him a friend made him smile. But he knew, after writing tons and tons in the therapy journal Quinn had gotten for him, not to push.

"Thanks, Rach. We're just here to get Burt's meds."

Burt grinned at her. "Medically compromising."

"Got it."

"My medicine is not compromising." That Russian accent was unmistakable.

"I swim in a pool at my gymnasium. I forget my earplugs one day? They have industrial sludge in it, I believe. One day without earplugs, I get the ear infection. Rachel."

"Yes, Ms. Sokoll?"

"Give my love to yours. All of them."

"I will. Thank you. Finn, Mr. Hummel—good to see you and see you later!"

And as they waited for only perhaps 45 seconds, Irena felt something in the air shift, as she always had all of her life, and she swiftly turned around, saw what she saw and said, "Men! Follow me!"

The tone of her voice made Burt Hummel and Finn Hudson immediately run after a woman who moved more quickly than a wood sprite toward a person they recognized as Russell Fabray standing, looking down, victorious, over something he'd done. Finn's heart sank into his shoes as he ran after the woman.

Irena didn't hesitate for a second. She was a world class athlete and just that fast, strong and ruthlessly capable. She lit into Russell before he knew what was happening with a wasp-like speed and whipped him four times in the face so hard with her cane that he dropped to the ground like a stone.

When Burt and Finn caught up with her, they were dismayed to find an unconscious Rachel on the ground and a groaning Russell next to her. Irena said, "Hold this rabid dog down. I saw it all. He punched this child in the temple without warning. A sort of sucker punch, you Americans call it. Tremendously dangerous for anyone, much less such a small child."

Her voice carried through the pharmacy to their pharmacist. "Aaron Johnson! Your pinlight, you bat-blind man! Call the 911! An ambulance and the police!"

"Burt Hummel?"

"Ma'am?"

"You will hold this vicious dog, will you not?"

"I will or I'll give him another knock he'll never forget. Or maybe he will forget it because he won't be around to remember."

"Exactly. Finn."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You will hold Rachel's head completely still. Keep your hand off where it is contused. You understand? This side? Good. Bad side. Underneath. Don't let it move."

He held Rachel's head and began to cry.

"No tears, child. Tears are for later. They will scare her."

He held Rachel's head, grimaced and said, "I understand. Wipe them for me please."

She did and then the pharmacist handed her his pinlight. She opened Rachel's eyelids and pointed the light into each twice and moved it away. "Very good. Equal and responsive. Hold her head very still, Finn Hudson."

She said very loudly, "Rachel! Curtain in one minute! Rachel Berry? Curtain! One minute!"

Everyone smiled as she began to blink but Irena kept her on the ground with a strong hand. Rachel opened her eyes and said, "Where's my mark?"

"Right here, tiny one. I have to ask you some questions. And they may seem inane but answer them for me as a fellow artist. Do not nod or shake your head—use your words. You understand?"

Rachel blinked blearily. "Naturally."

"What is your name?"

"Rachel Berry."

"Who am I?"

"Irena Sokoll."

"Very good. Do you know who this person is?" She pointed upward and Rachel smiled, "My friend Finn." He smiled down at her in anguished relief.

"Excellent. What day is it?"

She stared into the air. "Finn's here…so it's a school day?"

Finn winced but Irena said, "Very good. Do you know where you are?" Rachel didn't move her head but looked from left to right and up, "On the ground?"

"Perfect. Do you know why?"

"No."

"It's normal. You have suffered an accidental blow to your head."

"I have?"

"You have."

"But not to my nose?"

Finn felt himself nearly sob at this and viciously shook his head to cut himself off from doing so.

"No, my tiny. You have been in an accident. You will do this for me." She reached for Rachel's hands. "Can you feel my hands?"

"Of course."

"Squeeze them hard."

Rachel squeezed them. "Very good."

The woman moved down to Rachel's feet and squeezed them. "Can you feel that?"

"Yes."

"Push against my hands holding your feet."

Rachel did.

"Brilliant, little one. You will be fine, I promise you. When the paramedics come they will put you in a C-collar and on a spinal board, you understand?"

"Yes."

"It is merely a precaution your daddy would murder us for if we didn't take so don't be afraid. I am here."

"Okay."

"Your friend Finn will hold your head while I call your father so he will not be alarmed too much?"

"Okay."

Irena stepped away from them and Rachel looked up at Finn. "Could you like hold my head still from a different angle because you're upside down and that's making you look like Bizarro!Finn."

He maneuvered around the girl and kept her head still and tried to smile, "I'm sorry it's not Quinn or San or Britts or even Puck here with you. Just me."

"I think I'm not supposed to shrug but I'm fine. I totally feel safe with you, Finn."

"Really?"

"Of course. We'll talk about it. But I'm sleepy."

"I don't think you can sleep yet, Rach."

"Right. Head injury. I don't think I can either—tell me what COD's all about. Don't leave out the mind-numbing details. I mean, are there any _not_ mind-numbing details?"

He smiled down at her, frightened as he was.

* * *

"Yes, Eric Berry. The paramedics are here now. Pupils are equal and reactive, all four quadrants are good for sensation and motion, she's oriented times two and a half, perhaps. I believe she has a concussion but I know you will know what tests to run on her. As I said, I saw it happen. She was viciously punched in her left temple without warning. The aggressive swelling suggests perhaps a slight or frank occipital fracture. They are putting her on the board now. I will see you in hospital. If you wish to speak to the villain, and I know you will, you will probably see him there as well. If I didn't fracture both of his cheekbones with my cane, I mistake myself and I rarely do."

* * *

Teddy Miller had seen a lot of sad and sorry things in his life's career as a police officer but this was something that made his heart ache painfully and wrenchingly because it could be his daughter and for the same stupid reasons.

He smiled at Rachel as they put her on the stretcher, "Hi, trouble."

"Officer Miller! I don't think I was in my car but hello."

"You're on the way to the doc and your daddies, little girl. You go on and get well and I'll take care of things here, okay?"

"Oh that's right. I had an accident."

"You did but it was completely the other person's fault."

"That's a relief. No one else was hurt?"

"Nobody but you."

"That's good."

"It's not good you got hurt but we'll get it sorted and I'll give you a visit in the hospital."

"That's nice."

"Get her outta here, guys."

Burt Hummel was holding Russell Fabray's mouth shut so as not to upset Rachel with his moaning. As the paramedics took Rachel away he removed his hand.

"I need to go to the hospital, too!"

"By the looks of things facially, you sure do but you're not critically wounded and there's no way in hell I'd let you ride in the same bus with a female victim of your assault against her. Especially a child. And there's always the next bus, Mr. Fabray. And I'm humane enough that I'll get one for you." He spoke into his shoulder clip-on and ordered another ambulance. "You're under arrest for battery, Russell Fabray. Let me familiarize you with your Miranda rights. It's sort of just like the cop shows you might watch except now it's you and it's real. You have the right to remain silent…"

* * *

"Ms. Sokoll?"

"Yes, child."

"Ride with me?"

"A great honor. We divas like our lighted vehicles, do we not?"

"We do."

As they walked Rachel toward the ambulance on a stretcher, Irena said, "Finn?"

He looked up at ther.

"You are a very brave young man. Your father would be very proud of you."

"You knew my dad?"

As they walked, it seemed like a long city block to Finn although it wasn't.

Just enough time for Irena to say, "I did. He was a true gentleman. I only mean he held every door open for me or put an umbrella over my head so very many times as I happened upon him in Lima over the years. I did not know him at all. It was only a very gentlemanly kindness that asked for nothing in return. Of course I remember him. I was deeply saddened to hear of his departure from this world. You will be very like him some day, Finn."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome, young man. I assume I will see you in hospital?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

The first person Finn texted was Santana.

**Finn Hudson: 911! Abt Rach Cll plse!**

Santana turned the car off the road and called right away.

"The fuck, Finn. And it better not be you."

When he told her what had happened, Santana felt like something inside her was turning to gelatin.

"I just thought, S, it'd be better coming from you than me to tell Quinn and Britts. Me and dad are following the ambulance. From what Ms. Sokoll said, it looks really good but she made me be so careful and hold her head and neck steady that I'm scared totally shitless."

"Got it. I'll grab them and bring them. Call Puck. Once we know the deal, we can give the deets to everyone else. No need to freak Eric and Jacob out with a ton of angst teenagers."

"Got it. On it now."

**Finn Hudson: 911 dude. Rachel**

The call was immediate. "Better not be you, ass."

Finn gave him the details and he could nearly feel the boy's blood pressure rising across the connection. "That son of a bitch put his hand on my Jew? Fuck no. FUCK no! And you didn't kill him?"

"Dude! I had to hold her head still, Puck. So maybe she wouldn't be like paralyzed or something. I was scared as shit and Burt held Russell down even though Ms. Sokoll pulled a can of whup-ass on his face with her cane."

"I'll be there, man. Good job. I know that must've sucked massively for you. I'll be there bro, okay?"

"Yeah. See you there. We're keeping it on the DL just with us, okay?"

"Got it."

Santana hated calling Quinn but she did. Because that was part of the job description. Best friend. Bad news bears.

"Joe's Pizza. Latina special _again_?"

"Usually I'd say straight up but…you and Judy…I'm sorry but you need to get to the hospital because—no easy way to say it—Russell attacked Rach at the pharmacy. It sounds like Ms. Sokoll was there and all on top of it and that the hobbs is going to be okay but she'll probs be totally having the whole whatever tests and shit because he punched her in the head."

There was silence and Judy was on the line, "Santana. Why is my child sitting on the floor?"

Santana repeated her message.

"Right. We'll be there."

It wasn't necessary to say anything to Brittany, really. She just showed up, Brittany took one look at her face and said, "Quinn or Rachel?"

"Rach."

She filled her in as they drove to the hospital.

* * *

Eric wanted to pound his head into the wall as he waited for the ambulance, debating whether or not to call Jacob before he could say something definitive.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK. Jacob was Rachel's father and he was impossible but he was…

He punched his speed dial and connected instantly. "Jacob. You need to have someone ELSE drive you to the hospital, baby boy. Rachel's been in an accident."

Dr. Liam McNamara was, in Eric's opinion, one of the most rare of neurologists and neurosurgeons. He was a human. Neurologists tended, in his experience, toward the nearly inhuman, the moribund and the dour. The rare ones were always delightful. Liam was a happy and true Irishman and nearly a complete _bon vivant_. He loved wine, women, song and…brains. He was an amazing diagnostician, a world-class surgeon and why he wasn't in one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country and how he'd ended up in the country and Lima in the first place, Liam had never offered and Eric had never asked. But he was thanking God on his figurative knees that Liam immediately dropped everything for his baby.

Liam raised one red eyebrow listening to the paramedics coming in with Rachel. "Sounds simple enough. Punch in the temple. Nothing popping on her vitals. We'll do a quick MRI on your lass. She'll be up and at 'em in no time if it's possible. We both know sometimes people can't be fixed, Eric my dear. But she won't go to the dogs on my watch. If she needs fixing and is fixable, you know I can fix her. No worries, lad."

When she was wheeled in Rachel smiled from her collar, "Hi daddy."

"Hi, baby girl. Remember Dr. McNamara?"

"Of course I do. He's a wonderful person but he's also completely tone deaf as I tried to explain during the whole_ Oh Danny Boy_ fiasco at our home during Chrismukkuh last year."

Liam smiled at Eric, then did a quick battery of neurological tests and said, "This lass will be fine or I'm not a McNamara and me father and me mam always told me I was. But just to be sure, off to an MRI, my little leprechaun."

Rachel kicked her foot in the stretcher. "Why do people keep comparing me to tiny mythical or magical beings?"

Liam put one gentle hand on her forehead, "When you're actually magical, Rachel my beauty, that tends to happen. The tiny thing's just part of it."

He wrote his orders and relayed them to his resident. "Full cranial and cervical spine MRI. And I don't want the results in an hour. Do you hear me, lad? I want to see them in the next few minutes. This isn't critical in my estimation but act like it is for the sake of her fathers and act like _my_ daughter's on the table. Do you understand me?"

The resident nodded.

"Get going, you."

"Thanks, Dr. Mac."

"No problem. Sing me out of the room, Rachel."

Rachel's voice completely filled the room, "Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling…"

"Oh! No you don't! The devil is in you, Rachel Berry, and no mistaking it!"

Irena Sokoll smiled at Eric. In that instant, they both knew that everything would be okay.


	47. Chapter 47

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

**A/N: I completely make up the astrological signs for people in this chapter (except for Rachel who's so obvious it's a neon sign—and oddly enough Lea's as well…). And it's AU so I get to do what I want…**

* * *

Irena sat with Rachel when she got back to her emergency bay from her MRI and as her father was conferring with Dr. McNamara. "They will soon all rush in now child and tell you things. Your smaller father. He will be dramatic. May I say something?"

"Of course."

"I know you—I know the type you are—always the drama and the storming but you are very strong. When someone sings sharp, I'm sure you act like the world has ended. I've lived with you people all my life. But when something very terrible has happened to you physically, you never whimper."

Rachel grinned, "Maybe because I'm still in shock?"

"Perhaps. But you complain about aesthetics—not about true pain. It is a gift. You are a brave soul—much like your woman."

"Thank you, Ms. Sokoll."

"You are welcome."

"What happened?"

"You ask?"

"What happened to me?"

"I wonder should I tell you or let a father tell you?"

"I know you were there. I know they weren't. I'd rather hear it from a witness."

"Ah. I understand this. It was in the pharmacy. You and Burt Hummel and Finn Hudson and I said our pleasantries at the counter and you left us. It was Russell Fabray. I turned and saw it happen. He punched you in the head. You had stooped to look down at a product and as you stood, he hit you. You could not have known it would happen."

"Wow."

"It was very wow. But I took issue with my cane so I promise you will feel better than he does very much more quickly."

Rachel grinned again, "Really?"

"I know I have broken his face. And on both sides."

Rachel's face fell, "Quinn will…"

"Be dramatic in her way. Blame herself. Withdraw. You should refuse to put up with this."

Rachel sighed and thought for a second before asking, "How can I?"

"How can I say? What do people in love do? Say sweet things to each other? Hug? Pat each other's shoulders? I am 73 years old and know many things but I don't know these things. I am more the person who hits with a cane. I think you would know better than I. She needs softness perhaps for a time but I would say do not put up with too much. Demand. I find a demand is something every person understands. Then one can say yes or no. But if one sits on one's hands and never says a thing? Nothing gets done or said. Demand. As for a solo, you understand?"

She rested her chin on her cane, "Demand that she get over it. That way, perhaps, she will know there is a choice to make. I know you will get over this and quickly. It is not something you can do with everyone or that everyone _can_ do and I know this but that woman of yours is like you. Strong as granite. Only she quietly imagines herself a lamb. I say this but if you push her? She pushes back very hard. A ram. It is good."

"She _is_ an Aries."

"Of course she is. And you're a Virgo, as is your tiny father."

"How did you know that?"

"It is too obvious to be believed and your other father is obviously a Leo and I am a Scorpio. Fire with a sting. What do you Americans say? Imagine that? Santana—completely Gemini. Brittany? Nothing describes her adequately so I will not say it although of course I know and celebrate her birthday. Perhaps you know that a Virgo and Aries match is absolutely so wrong it is often quite right? From what I've read, especially sexually."

"Ms. Sokoll!"

The woman laughed.

* * *

Eric was waiting and immediately stepped in front of Jacob when he appeared because he looked like he was on the verge of hyperventilating as he ran into the hospital. He put his hands on his husband's shoulders and said, "First thing? Breathe. She's not in any danger. Breathe. Walking in there like you might need a stretcher more than she does isn't gonna help, Jake."

Jacob took a few deep breaths and then came to the realization that there was another person right next to him. "Liam! Please tell me!"

"I was just about to talk to Eric about the MRI and her tests. Rachel's neck is fine although I'm sure it will be very sore—a form of whiplash. There is literally nothing wrong with that neck that a little stretching and NSAIDs won't cure once she's out of here. On the worse side, and I'm sorry to say, she has a concussion and a minor temporal fracture. The first is a day at the park but the last is not a happy thing, surely, but all is looking incredibly, even remarkably sunny side up, considering. As Eric will tell you, Jacob, every person is different and clinical outcomes for the very same injury can be wildly different. Your child has a skull like any child's skull…"

He scratched his own head as he continued, "But she has a tough resilient neck and a brain like a damn rock, neither of which actually surprise me, knowing her. There are no signs of undue intracranial pressure, no signs of visual or auditory damage. No signs of CSF leakage. That said, I'm keeping her for a couple of days. I'll do another MRI tomorrow and although I can tell you she doesn't need it, I'll have an ophth and ENT test her as well, my dears. I'm keeping her in a small C-collar and have had her catheterized so she can stay flat for the next twelve hours. That way she can try to get what rest she can without worrying about the loo or forgetting positioning her head between being asked what her name is and where she is every thirty bloody minutes. It will drive both the nurses and her crazy but those will be my orders. That head won't go pear-shaped on me and I'll treat her as I'd treat my own lass, if some woman would put up with me long enough for her to give birth to a girl kitten of our own. I wouldn't want a tom kitten. Boys are a bad lot, with no disrespect meant to you who think they hung the moon. Girls, I say! More women in this world is what we need!"

Jacob found himself relaxing enough to grin, "Many woman would put up with you, Liam. That's the problem—you want many women—you don't want to settle with one woman."

Liam touched his nose and pointed it at Jacob, "You've hit the nail square and no mistake."

Eric's phone rang and he looked at the number, "That's Joe Bob—be right back."

"Liam?"

"Jacob."

"Will you tell me something Eric won't? Of course I can Google it at home but I'd rather hear it from a friend."

"Ask and we'll see, lad."

"What are the potential outcomes of a…what did you call it?"

"A temporal fracture of the skull?"

"Yes?"

"They won't be the outcomes this time, Jacob. Hers is minor and, as I said, her clinical presentation is excellent. As God has willed it and I foresee, these potentials will certainly not happen to your child."

"I just want to know what this man might have done to my baby."

Liam stared at him, "Fair enough. You're her father but I will not let you go attack that man although I want to do so myself. Your child and husband need you. Saying that, given their different sizes—were he a better puncher, not the blundering hound he is, and she not a phenomenal hardhead? The worst case is what I'm guessing you're wanting and I have actually seen them all. Permanent brain damage, permanent facial nerve paralysis, permanent partial hearing loss, permanent impaired vision, permanent vertigo or death, which is, of course, as permanent as things get."

Jacob brought a shaking hand to his forehead, "Oh my God. I can't wrap my mind around it."

Eric rejoined them and saw the look on Jacob's face. "Liam! Oh no. No you didn't. You told him what could have happened, didn't you?"

"He asked. He's her father, too."

"I know that but Jesus, Liam. He's always read the damned 'possible side effects' on every medicine Rachel's ever taken and thinks she has all of them. Every single time. I have to talk him off a ledge if she cuts a finger, much less has a fractured skull."

"Oh, I see. You're one of those, are you, Jacob?"

"I see no reason to denigrate my perfectly natural overly protective nature toward our only child."

Eric hugged him, "You know I'm not denigrating you, Jake. I'm just saying let's focus on what _is_ rather than what might have been and isn't. In this case, it's so much happier. Liam's taking great care of our baby and what he's telling us is the happiest possible outcome for this sort of injury. And speaking of, why don't we go see her. You'll feel better when you look at her."

* * *

When they entered the emergency bay, Jacob nearly sobbed with relief. Yes, his child was in a c-collar, yes her face was terribly swollen on one side and discoloring badly, but she was laughing at something Ms. Sokoll had said.

He rushed to her, "Baby!"

"Stay on her good side, Jake, and leave her flat on the bed."

"Hi, dad!" He kissed her good cheek and she patted him and smiled at him. "Don't cry, dad. I'd hug you so hard right now but they told me I have to stay flat for the night."

He wiped his tears, "I understand. How are you feeling, angel?"

She blinked at him. "I don't know. I'm glad Ms. Sokoll was here to explain what happened. And I guess, because I can't remember, mostly it's confusing. I don't mean knowing Russell Fabray hit me. I understand that easily enough. I've been afraid for a long time it might be you or Daddy but you two could fight back and would probably get hurt more so I'm glad, in a way, that it was me. Evidently it doesn't take much gay-bashing to take me out or satisfy someone, especially when someone's there to bash them right back. It happened and I'm not happy about it but I'm not particularly surprised."

She pulled her blanket down to her waist because being the center of attention was always extremely warming to her, even physically.

"I'm obviously alive and as long as I can still fully function and sing, who cares? One more painful event that happened and I won't look back on as all that important in my future. Physically, I think I'm still a bit in shock but my head's starting to hurt—like the beginning of a really, really horrible headache. Wait-a-second!" She kicked her foot on the bed. "I always told you this would happen, dad, daddy! I'm having a brain aneurysm!"

Jacob's hand flew to his mouth.

Liam was completely flummoxed by this, "What? Having an_ aneurysm_? _Of course_ _you're not_! I'm a neurologist! Do you think I'd be standing here dawdling and talking if that were the case? You'd be on a surgical table and I'd be working to fix it and I _would_, with God's grace and my not inconsiderable skill. So no. Put that thought out of your mind. And remember, I've seen your brain up close on an MRI. Your headache might be terrible but it's normal—you've been hit square in the temple."

Although relieved to know she wasn't having an aneurysm, it was very embarrassing to be told in front of her fathers and by a neurologist no less that her anxiety about this was, perhaps, a bit foolish. However, Rachel did have manners. "I apologize for seeming to doubt you professionally, Dr. Mac. It's been something of an anxiety of mine for years. Please tell me what's wrong."

"No harm done and I think I can put your anxiety to rest. No need to mince words with you because I know although a raving beauty, you're also a fine tiny cart-pony of a lass. You just keep trotting along and nothing stops you."

Her embarrassment about her aneurysm made her respond peevishly, "Stop right there. If you're going to say something along those lines about my stamina, fortitude and character, I would prefer you reference these traits in the sense of the show must go on because I'm a performer of professional caliber. I'm beginning to tire of people comparing me to a pony."

"Ah! Really? So other people have noticed it, too. Have you known many ponies, Rachel? They're tiny and lovely and have such beautiful eyes and winning ways but they will certainly bite or kick you if you don't show them respect."

Rachel saw that Ms. Sokoll almost smiled with what looked like agreement with this. She kicked her foot on the bed again before she realized that would, again, sort of prove his point and tried to look mad but couldn't completely because Quinn and Santana both called her a pony and she loved them. "Fine! What's wrong with this pony, Dr. Mac?

"Simple to say. You have a concussion and a fractured skull. You almost called it right, Ms. Sokoll. But it's a temporal, not an occipital, fracture."

At this, Irena's lips formed a thin, white line because she knew how serious that was.

"Will it affect my singing?"

"Can you hear my voice?"

"Yes."

He whispered, "Even now?"

"Yes."

"We'll get you checked out tomorrow. But I can promise you no. You'll out-sing me for years to come, my beauty."

"With no disrespect, you'd have to look a long time to find someone who _couldn't _out-sing you, Dr. Mac."

"A pony and a wasp to boot in such a condition!" He grinned at her, "You'll be fine and a nurse will come to give you some pain medicine for that headache. I wouldn't have you in pain for the world but I can't have you so dopey I don't know what's the medicine or your head. You understand?"

"Perfectly."

"Don't hesitate to ask, though, lass. We have very sophisticated drugs these days—non-narcotics that leave you clear. I'm starting you low because you're very small and people react differently to different things. I'll be back in a bit and you'll be transferred to your room soon. And all of you stand over her so she doesn't try to move her neck to see you. Okay?"

"Got it," Eric said.

"Ms. Sokoll is it?"

"It is. I am."

"I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself first thing. I'm Liam McNamara, Rachel's neurologist."

"You seem curiously humane for such a specialty. I know you people."

Eric stared at her as if she'd read his mind, even as Liam beamed at her and said, "Truer words were never spoken! And I had to do my internship and residency with them for eight dog-long years! Not one let's-grab-two-pints-and-a-girl or let's-have-a-shag-lad among them. Never. Not a one!"

When Rachel laughed, he immediately remembered himself and blushed, "And that was completely inappropriate to say in the presence of, well, anyone in a clinical setting—please excuse me. I just wanted you to know, Miss, that I appreciate, as I know her parents do, your keeping Russell Fabray from hurting Rachel any further. I also wanted you to know something although it's strictly against doctor-patient confidentiality and I find I don't care a jot. I had to consult for that hound's case as well. Nothing terribly clinically pertinent for me, a concussion surely but memory intact. I thought I'd just confirm, as Eric told me you said-you did break both cheekbones. But you also broke his jaw. They're wiring it shut as we speak. Rachel will be singing in school in a week but he'll be eating soup through a straw for two months. I promise you he'll be hurting worse than Rachel for a long time. And then there's a lovely court case and probably a wee pleasant stint in prison for him to look forward to. So thank you, from the bottom of my Irish heart."

Irena shrugged, "I was too happy to help. I am 73 years old. I only wish I'd been younger and I did not need to focus on this tiny one? If so? He would not have knees either. In fact, a limp on both sides forever, if he were very lucky. I know knees well and exactly how to hit them."

He blinked down at this incredibly petite old woman and said, "I completely believe you and can promise you, Miss, I will never make the mistake of making you angry with me."

She smiled at him, but only with her eyes, "Yes. That is best, I find."

He winked at her then leaned over the bed and kissed Rachel on her forehead. "You will be fine, my beauty. I will be in the hospital for the night, only a minute away if you need me."

Rachel eyed him with a sudden look of fear, "Why? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Nothing you don't know. You're in the hospital and head injuries need attention. All of my patients are dear to me but you could not be dearer because I love your parents and I love you. Nothing will happen to you and I will stay if only so you and your parents will be more comfortable. You'll all know, as I've been called many times when hospitals from everywhere try to steal me away from Lima as they do more often than you'd believe, that one of the best neurological diagnosticians and surgeons in the world is staying with you through the night although he knows he really and truly doesn't need to."

"That's very kind of you."

"No more than you're worth, my beauty."

A nurse popped into the room. "Dr. Mac?"

"Nancy, my dear."

"I need to clear how to deal with this. We have seven people in the ER waiting room who all feel like they really need to get back to see this patient." She read from a list on her pad, "Burt Hummel, Finn Hudson, Noah Puckerman, Judy Fabray, Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce."

Eric said, "Baby girl, I'll take them in a patient counseling room and explain, okay?"

Rachel tried to respond and frowned, "This collar is tremendously frustrating. I can't nod so I'll say yes."

"Is that okay? To tell them what's wrong?"

"Of course."

"Do you want to see any of them?"

"Of course I do. And Daddy and Dad, please don't act angry around Quinn and Judy about this because that will make them feel worse than I know they already do. I want Quinn most. Please explain to Brittany so she understands and isn't afraid. I want to see them."

"Eric. I'm her doctor."

"Yes, Liam?"

"Absolutely no. Three visitors max. She is never on my watch having eleven visitors so early after a skull fracture. Rachel? It tasks you although you don't know it, child. You've already had me, the redoubtable Miss S, your daddy and dad? You see? Four. And the nurses I'm not even counting although I should because they're more important than I am. Even letting these next three in is pushing me. Who do you want?"

"Quinn, Brittany and Santana. But tell everyone else I love them and thank you and especially Noah because he's my Jew and say it that way and tell Burt and especially Finn thanks for helping me today and I'm sorry I can't see them and tell Judy I love her, too."

"Jacob, Irena, stay with our baby. Liam—help me with the news?"

"Why not? My shift's ending in a few hours and I'm technically free for the next two days."

As they walked toward the waiting room, Liam asked, "So who's who?"

"Nutshell and it's pretty wild?"

"All the better."

"Quinn Fabray. Russell's daughter. Rachel's girlfriend. Judy, Russell's ex and Quinn's mother. Santana Lopez, Quinn's best friend. Noah Puckerman, father of Quinn's baby. Ex of Rachel and Santana and, in a sense, of Quinn. Finn Hudson, ex of Quinn and of Rachel and, in a sense, Santana, evidently. Burt Hummel, Finn's step-father. And Brittany Pierce. Santana's love and someone everyone cherishes. No matter what she says, no matter how odd, be gentle with her and explain things as simply as you can without being completely obvious about it. She's an angel on Earth."

"Naturally but this Brittany person notwithstanding, this is madness! You have a fair Peyton Place in the waiting room."

"What do the kids say? I know right?"

* * *

When they joined the group in the waiting room, Eric saw that Quinn looked almost gray with anguish and so he crossed the room and hugged her. "She's going to be okay, honey."

She immediately began to sob and the rest of the people in the room shared sighs of relief. Eric stroked her hair and everyone stood awkwardly watching until Brittany said, "You have something to tell us that isn't nice. I can totally tell."

"It's not fun or nice—but it'll be okay, Brittany."

They took them all into a private family counseling area and Eric introduced Liam, "This is Dr. Liam McNamara. He's taking care of Rachel. He's a neurologist." For Brittany's sake, he added, "He works with everything that lets you move or feel things but the main parts he works on are your head and your neck and spine."

"Okay, lads and lasses. Hello. I'm Liam and with Rachel's permission, I'll show you what's going on with her." There was a white board in the room and he drew a circle and then two arrows pointing out. "Pretend this is Rachel's head? And the arrows mean those are her eyes—so you can see where and what I mean?"

He looked specifically at Brittany, who nodded.

"Here's what happened. She was hit here." He drew an arrow to the place on the circle and then tapped his own head in the same spot. "And naturally, because she was unprepared for the blow and even if she had been—she'll feel a bit of a whiplash effect and it will be painful but her neck is just fine. That's her neck. Her head next. She has a concussion and she has a fracture to this part of her skull, which is and I will not lie, a terribly dangerous place to be hit and fractured for anyone but especially for a female child who is so small."

Santana wrapped her arms around herself, Burt could actually feel his blood pressure rising and Noah gripped the sides of his chair until his knuckles were white. Finn felt nothing like them—he felt not so much anger but anguish because he'd held her poor tiny head. Quinn and Judy felt sheer and simple horror.

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Brittany."

"Do you mean Rachel's head got broken?"

"Yes, lass."

Tears filled her eyes, "But if her head is, like, broken, did her brain get out? Because I know that would be super bad if that happened."

"A very good question, Brittany. Her brain stayed where it was because it was not as serious as you're thinking."

Santana took Brittany's hand as she shook her head and said, "I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"Don't cry, my dear. It melts Irishmen like candle wax. Almost all people don't understand these things so you're not alone at all and never think you are. In my experience, lass, most people just act like they know things they don't so they don't feel foolish. You ask questions and, believe me, that's a good thing, a smart thing and a gift. And I know these things because I'm a brain doctor. As you say, her head has been broken."

He drew a circle within the circle and then four others inside that. "Everyone's brain is precious and it's held within six protective layers, okay? It is God's design and a blessing. They're like six egg cartons for your brain, Brittany. Think about Rachel's brain as being an egg. The outermost egg carton for her brain is her skin. That has been badly bruised and is greatly swelling. Inside that, is the second egg carton called nothing you need to know. That has been badly bruised and is greatly swelling."

He pointed to the board, "They are soft and so they bruise easily. Inside that? The third egg carton is her skull and that is what has been broken. Inside that, the fourth egg carton? It is a very important one and also soft. It has been badly bruised. It's not broken but I will say this fourth egg carton seems very gloriously 'I don't even care' about it all, just as Rachel acts as a person, so it's showing next to no swelling, praise Jesus and Mary. Inside that? The fifth and sixth egg cartons? The most special and important ones? They have only been shocked by the blow, not broken, and are acting fine as fiddles or I'm not an Irishman and I know I am. So you see, Brittany, her brain didn't have a chance to get out. Does that make sense?"

She nodded vehemently.

"Good. I will not say she hasn't suffered a very bad injury because she certainly has? And doctor's don't do this because they always hedge their bets on the 'we'll see' side about things. And fair enough. But I feel confident to say she'll make a full recovery and quickly. Her little egg's looking fine and I'll keep it that way. It just happens and I believe you all will believe it as well, that Rachel has a really hard head. She'll be in the hospital for a couple of days but she'll be singing you to death in about a week."

Everyone smiled at this news.

"I'm her doctor. She's going to be okay, but I'm sorry to say I can't let all of you go back to visit. She needs sedation and to stop talking until tomorrow and as her friends I'm sure you know she's capable of talking if you give her even a tenth of a chance. She wants to speak to some of you before she rests. Eric will give you the messages she sent to you. It was nice to meet you all and I'm sorry it couldn't be under better circumstances, as we say."

As Liam left the room, he wondered to himself. He'd seen and admired them, naturally, but he didn't have any true interest in women who weren't his age. But where in the world had God put girls like _that _when _he_ was sixteen? Honestly! And Rachel had the pick of the lot of them!

* * *

Everyone had taken their leave and Rachel had just closed her eyes when Brittany and Santana entered the bay.

Santana knew things about hospitals a lot of people didn't and quickly popped down the restraint on Rachel's good side as they stood over her. "Hi, short-stack. Anything shakin' except that noggin? "

Brittany began to cry.

"Britts, don't cry. Remember, she'll want to hug you if you cry and she can't."

Brittany kicked off her shoes and just frankly climbed in bed with Rachel as she said, "Don't move. I know how to move around people without moving them."

Brittany enveloped her in a hug that, exactly as she said, did not change Rachel's position in the least. It was one arm over Rachel's waist and her leg over both of Rachel's. "I'm not touching your head. I'll just keep you still."

"Thank you, Brittany."

Santana looked into Rachel's eyes, then ran a hand over her forehead. "I know we don't have much time. Can we get you anything?"

"Only Quinn. After a tiny little nap with Brittany who's helping me get well."

"Britts is totally the best medicine."

They smiled at each other.

"Always. I really want to visit with you, too, Santana, but _please_ go tell her I'm okay? You know why. She'll be better with you."

"I understand. And will do. I know it's not your fault but don't scare the fuck out of me again, Frodo, and I'll thank God on my knees tonight that you're okay. So fifteen minutes with my baby. Fifteen—got it? Not just seven minutes in heaven. Double and more."

Santana kissed Brittany's head, looked down at Rachel, hesitated, then dipped down and kissed her softly on the lips, "Circumstances, hobbs."

Rachel looked at her and they both saw what they saw in each other's eyes. Santana winked, smirked and said, "Check _you_ out, _ese_. And in a hospital bed? Going to get my cap. Fifteen minutes."

* * *

About two minutes after Santana had left, Brittany said, "You know she's always super wanted to sleep with you like forever but she can't and don't say I said so because that would be bad for Q, okay?"

"Attraction isn't the same thing as action. I'd never do that to Quinn or to you, Brittany. And she wouldn't either."

"I totally know that but sometimes it can make you feel nice that special people you want in a sexy way really want you back even if you know it'll never happen, right? It doesn't make me worry at all. You and San? I think it's sort of cute. And San and Q. Who can't see _that_?" Half the stuff they do together, especially the fighting, is like 'just get a room,' right? Wait. I'm sorry. Does this hurt your head to think about?"

"Not at all."

A full minute passed.

"I think, Rach…"

"Yes?"

"This is sort of serious."

"Okay."

"I don't think about you the way they do about each other, maybe. I think I could really want you but in more than just a sexy want you. And you know I love San the most on the planet and I'm totally marrying her. But I'm super, super sad you're hurt because…and I hope you won't be mad if I tell you that even though you're my friend, I'm sort of a little in love with you but in a way that we can't ever do stuff about, okay?"

Brittany dipped her head into Rachel's neck, "Do you know what I mean? And if that's dumb, please, please, please don't tell. Please."

"I won't ever tell anyone. I promise. And it's not dumb. It makes perfect sense and I'm in love with you, too, in exactly the same way. And I agree and I promise we'll never do anything about it. Ever, ever. We'll just torture Quinn and Santana with our tempestuous bromance! They both deserve it, don't you think?"

Brittany snickered, "Totally! Obvs."

"But Brittany?"

"Yeah?"

"I think they probably feel the same way we do with each other. Perhaps they just don't want to express it."

"You think?" Brittany sighed, then said, "I've been with them so long it sometimes gets hard for me to know stuff because it's always been right there but I can't ask because I know that would be bad and they wouldn't talk to me about it."

Rachel patted Brittany's arm, "They might talk about their emotions when they're alone. Or maybe not. But I agree with you. I'm not ever asking because some things are private between two people. Just like this is private between us, right?"

"Right."

"But I'm really glad we said it out loud, Brittany. That really pleases me and knowing your feelings for me are something I'll always cherish. Thank you."

"Me too. So much. Rach?"

"Yes?"

"I've been thinking—for our first expedition in our sub—"

"Uh huh?"

"Could we go like down into the way deep where those super weird crazy glow-in-the-dark-fishes are?"

"I know we c_ould_, but I think we might have to reinforce our sub's hull because of the pressure."

"Right? I so _knew_ it. I think we should do that, don't you?"

"Me, too. We rule."

"Totally."

* * *

As she approached the bay, Quinn was pleased to hear them murmuring about their sub although she still always felt a tiny spike of jealousy about Brittany, which she knew was ridiculous. "Knock knock."

Rachel smiled and Quinn sort of wanted to die. The girl's face was a turning a livid purple on one side and was amazingly swollen.

"Quinn! We've decided we need to triple-plate our sub's hull for an excursion into the deep. It's tremendously exciting!'

Brittany kissed Rachel's cheek. "I'll be here tomorrow. Call if you need anything. And Q? You can totally get in bed with her and talk, just don't move her. I only did it because, well—"

"Because you're a world-class dancer and have an exquisite way of moving what you want to and not what you don't? So Rach is safe with you?"

"A little like that."

"I trust you but I'll stand over her rather than risk it."

Brittany put on her shoes and said, "Friend kiss, Q." She pecked Rachel on the lips but winked at the girl as she rose. "See you tomorrow, CO."

"You got it, Captain."

Brittany hugged Quinn and when she left, Quinn said, "You two are such trouble together."

"Completely. You can sit on the side of the bed, Quinn. That won't hurt me."

Quinn took her hand and sat in silence for a few moments, just looking at her.

"Is it that awful looking, baby?"

"No. It's very bad but no. You're beautiful."

"Can I give you a list?"

"You have a hospital list?"

"Yes. Things you don't get to do."

Quinn rocked in place a tiny bit. "Okay."

"You don't get to think this is your fault. This was a random act of violence and I won't be scarred by it or scared at all the next time I step out the door. I will be as wary as any woman should be every time she is in the world but I won't live my life in fear. You will not sit and ruminate and associate your past behavior toward me with this person's present behavior. At all. You show me every day you love me too much now for me to doubt anything about you. You will let it go as far as I'm concerned. Be angry or be sad or both. But do them, feel them and let them go. I know, baby. I _know_ I don't get to decide how you deal with yourself or with him. But with me? Please? Your girlfriend suffered a random act of violence. Just like I was pistol-whipped at a convenience store in a freak wrong place, wrong time thing. Could you just please imagine that's all this was? For us? Because that's what I'm going to do. I'll have my Viking funeral for it and it'll be gone. "

Quinn looked at Rachel and waited a long few moments trying scrape up a semblance of reasonability before saying, with a smirk, "But he broke your little pumpkin."

"Are _you_ asking for a beating? Because I can call Ms. Sokoll."

"You're adorable, Rachel."

"And you're sexy."

"Right. Santana told me they were giving you sexy drops."

"She was pushing your buttons to make you angry instead of sad."

"I know that. She's sort of transparent when she's terrified. And she was. For you and for me and Britts. Yeah."

"Kiss me."

"There _is_ no brain damage!"

Quinn kissed her very gently but thoroughly before they heard a cough. Dr. McNamara was at the curtain. "Don't want to disturb but you'll be going up to your room soon. It's usually the nurses who order a sleeping cot but I ordered one for you. Just in case you'd like one of your fathers or your lass to stay overnight with you? There'll be no joy in it. Woken every thirty minutes."

"Me please, Rachel."

"I want Quinn."

"Good choice. I prefer a lovely roommate as much as the next person. Not that your fathers aren't both lovely if you lean that way although none of us evidently do. But your daddy, my dear Rachel, would be a pain because he's a doctor and your dad would watch you like you were a bomb about to explode, which you're not. You'll just both be very sleepy girls tomorrow. After twelve hours and your second MRI and your other tests, you can sleep and you'll need it."

"Thanks."

"I'll write the orders, my beauty. See you in a few hours."

After he left, Rachel shook the hand holding hers, "Are you okay Quinn?"

"My sperm donor assaulted my lover. No. Not okay."

"How about this? Something happened. Like someone broke your foot, for example. It happens."

"That was an accident. This was intentional and I want to speak to him."

"I can't tell you that you can't. But I can say you can't attack him, Quinn. Please."

"I wouldn't do that. I'm not him." She sat looking at Rachel for what seemed like a very long time. "So you still love me?"

"Love you? Emotionally. Of course. Physically? Not yet. But I'm counting the days. My mind's been in overdrive. How can you force parents out of town without being completely obvious? I mean, you've just got one. So I think we need to find a real estate convention for your mom. And soon."

"But now we have to wait for your little head to heal before I roll you around in the bed."

Rachel's face brightened, "Really? Do you think there will be rolling involved?"

"If you think you get to be on top the whole time, you're crazy."

"Really? I'd like you on top."

Quinn tilted her head, "Really?"

"Absolutely. A lot. _A lot_ a lot."

"Why do you say these things when I can't do anything about it?"

"This from _you_?"

Quinn tilted her head and then smiled at her and said sweetly. "Oh my God. _Honey_. You just sort of talked dirty to me. I'm so proud of you."

* * *

Officer Teddy Miller was waiting, at Russel Fabray's bedside, after he'd gotten back from the surgery to wire his jaws shut. Waiting for a deputy to replace him. He was too old to put up with this and Joe Bob knew that.

He looked at the man. Russell looked like shit pan-fried first, left in the fridge, and then warmed over and if he hadn't done what he'd done, Teddy would have felt a ton of sympathy for him.

When the door opened and Eric Berry walked in, Teddy leapt up and instantly placed himself between Eric and the bed.

"I know who you are, Dr. Berry. Your daughter's been weighing on my mind and Quinn has been, too. Is Rachel okay?"

"Yes. She has a fractured skull but her prognosis is excellent."

Teddy's shoulders relaxed, "Oh, thank God. She's such a joy. Thank God for that."

"I am and I do, believe me."

Teddy pulled himself to his full height. "Dr. Berry? Russell Fabray is a person in my legal custody. I'll take you at your word because I know I can believe you. Do you have any weapons on you or intend to cause this man physical harm? Because, my very strong feelings aside, I will certainly use physical force against you in order to protect him from either. You should understand this—you're a doc and I'm a cop. Protect and serve. No matter who ends up in front of you. Mine is rule and law and it's not so fun lots of times. You protect and serve, too."

"I understand completely, Officer Miller."

"Good. You can say your peace but don't ask him anything in my presence. He hasn't waived his right to silence. And you, as a physician, can't ask he do so in his condition. Say whatever you want but do not threaten him or question him. Or I will have to charge you and you could prejudice your daughter's case against him. Got me?"

"Yes."

Teddy took his chair but Eric noted, as he did so, he flipped the holster restraint on his service weapon. Eric respected that.

"Russell Fabray?"

Russell shook his head a tiny bit, looked up and glared at him.

"I know you know who I am. I just came by to say my daughter is going to get well very soon."

"Officer Miller."

"Yes?"

"What did you charge him with?"

"I gave him the battery drill which is a misdemeanor but of course our DA will take one look at the case and up it to an aggravated battery charge, as his victim is, with a very capable witness and the camera evidence I've heard shows it, a minor child, assaulted by him. That means a felony and prison time. Maybe not all that long, but prison."

Eric smiled at Russell. "Prison. I wonder when you're in prison, Russ—even if like for only sixty days? What will go over better with your fellow inmates? The fact that you're there for hitting a child and a girl or for being all beat up because a tiny geriatric woman whupped your ass until you couldn't eat solid food? And I can _promise_ you _everyone_ will know it. I won't even talk about what that sort of stuff might lead to in prison because I think we can both imagine it. Never approach my daughters again, bitch. Rachel and Quinn. They're mine and Jacob's and Judy's. That's going to be legal. Or terminal. Try me just once more."

When Eric left the room, Teddy stood down, physically, and felt awful, for every single person involved.

* * *

Teddy had nearly nodded when a knock came to the door and he was surprised to see Quinn come in with a small bag.

Russell looked at her and she at him. His face was truly completely decimated and horribly swollen. Quinn accepted this. She rolled his mobile stand over his bed and pulled items out of her bag. She produced, first, two small hospital issued-pitchers full of ice, then six grape juice boxes with straws attached. "I know you like grape."

"I asked the night nurse and gave her money to go get you some banana-strawberry smoothies and put them in the fridge for you and she's going to split them up so if you get hungry, you can ask for them and I made her promise big straws. I also asked Rachel's doctor to talk to yours so you're going to get more pain medicine because I know you need it and they'll bring a sort of ice ring thing to wear around your face to numb it and make the swelling go down and make you feel better."

She pulled two magazines out of the bag. "I also brought you two extreme puzzle books and some pens because I know you love them and you can pass the time that way. And I called Toni and texted her. Not a word. In hours. She's cares so much."

"I know it's not easy to talk but I don't need for you to. I don't want you to speak, actually. Think of these as parting gifts."

They looked at each other for a very long time. She reached into her bag in such a thoughtful way that Teddy Miller stood up to protect his prisoner.

She understood and smiled. "A hairbrush, Officer Miller." She tenderly combed Russell's hair for him, moved to the sink and took a cloth from the bathroom, rinsed it in cold water and with exquisite gentleness removed dried blood and the evidence of his surgery from his face. "There you go. You look as good as anyone can, under the circumstances. Which is the only thing you ever really expected from me, right?"

She ran one hand over his bruised hand, the one he'd used to hit Rachel. "I always loved your hands, Daddy. All my life. When you held my hand I felt so loved and safe. I believed that. Imagine that."

She looked at her hand on his, patted it and then removed it as she looked into his eyes. "I never want to see you again, Russell Fabray. It will be legal, obviously, with you and Rachel and her family, but also for me and my mother. I never want to see you or hear from you ever again in my life. We've had a death in the family. You can mourn if you want. I already have because I was dead to you nearly a year ago, right? It still hurts me but it gets easier with time. But it's never over. Don't expect that."

She stood and said, "Goodbye."


	48. Chapter 48

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

**One song in this from Split Enz (youtube dot com) ****/watch?v=ABXcIsmyLJk**

* * *

Quinn had asked Judy to wait so that she could give her a quick text report and in case they needed anything and sure, enough, after about twenty minutes, her phone buzzed.

**Quinn Fabray: Staying the night. Can you bring a bag with pajamas, toiletries, leave it at the desk + bail me out of school for the next 3 days? R wants to see you tomorrow, sends love.**

**Judy Fabray: Will do. Give her my love. How is she?**

**Quinn Fabray: Pretty chipper, but I think she's still in shock. TBH, she looks terrible so prepare yourself**

**Judy Fabray: Temporary, sweetie. Give her my love. Be back in 30-45 min. Love you**

**Quinn Fabray: Love you **

* * *

Deputy Anthony Jones cuffed Russell to his bed and then he and Officer Miller cornered Burt, Finn and Irena in the hospital and, individually, keeping them strictly apart, led them into the patient counseling room and heard their statements.

Teddy Miller took Irena's statement and after she gave it, she shrugged, "That is what I saw and what I did. Will I be charged with an offense? One supposes one calls a lawyer if so."

"Nope. Not that I can see. You saw a child hit by an adult, an adult who was looming over her and might do anything, and you took action to protect the child."

"Exactly. When you have been beaten yourself," she shrugged, "you know what is next. More beating. I would not have that child hit for my life."

"Me either."

"So I'm free to go?"

"Completely. You realize if this goes to trial, you'll have to testify."

"Of course. But it will not go to trial. An animal like that who judges so violently fears judgement of himself more than anything in this world. Off the record?"

"Yes ma'am."

"This was a crime of passion, as they say. Unpremeditated. I do not believe in this world he looked for her. He happened upon her and so he struck her for reasons we both know. As a child, he must have been very harshly dealt with. I have seen it happen. However, it was done, and he chose no path out of it and became half the man he might have been. He is not ill. But he is craven and he will—how do you say in the TV shows? He will plea out to beg himself less time in prison."

"I think so, too."

They stood.

"Not a good day, Officer Miller. But that man—not a bad day's _work_ for me."

"You're very scary, Ms. Sokoll."

"Thank you. You're not the first to say so."

* * *

When Burt and Finn got home from the hospital, Carole and Kurt were chatting as they cut up vegetables for a stir fry, a dietary change that was something Burt had had to get used to on their watch.

When the two happy chopping cooks looked at Burt and Finn's faces, they put their knives down.

"What's wrong," Kurt asked.

"It's Rachel."

Just looking into Finn's eyes made Kurt back up physically, feeling a cascading horror he hadn't felt since his mother's death. "No no no. Not _that_. _Please _no."

Burt took one look at him and understood instantly. "Rachel's _alive_, son. She'll be alright."

Kurt had backed himself into a counter-top and gripped it as he took deep breaths. "Then what's wrong?"

"She was gay-bashed today, Kurt, pretty much in front of us."

Tears formed in Kurt's eyes and he closed them, letting them fall and shook his head as if that could make it go away, "No. No she wasn't. What? _Why_? How…"

Finn's voice was gentle as he said, "Russell found out Rachel was with Quinn and he punched her in the head and knocked her out and fractured her skull."

Carole's face paled and Kurt clapped his hands over his mouth to stifle himself.

Burt said quietly and firmly, "Kurt…son. She's been hurt really bad but her neurologist said she'll be alright." He moved to hug his son but was cut off by Finn, who swiftly wrapped Kurt in the tightest hug the boy had ever felt.

Carole looked into her husband's eyes, which were glistening with tears, and saw not only sadness but the horror of having witnessed the justification of every fear he felt every single day watching his son walk out into the world. She took him in her arms. Finn and Carole held them and Burt and Kurt cried, both for Rachel and for themselves.

* * *

**Kurt Hummel: 911 x 100**

**Mercedes Jones: Wha wha?**

**Kurt Hummel: Rach gay-bashed—broken skull but maybe ok—come over please**

**Mercedes Jones: Hell to the no. You're kidding me.**

**Kurt Hummel: I'm not. Please?**

**Mercedes Jones: B there pronto**

**Brittany Pierce: Mike?**

**Mike Chang: Britt?**

**Brittany Pierce: Rach gt supr hrt tdy and n the hsptl. Hd is brkn. Jst wntd u 2 no. Tll T and Art and Sm and Mt**

**Mike Chang: Just got way crzy msg from B. Translation? Ssup?**

**Santana Lopez: Sorry about that. I told her to leave it to me but you're her bro. Rachel has a fractured skull and she should be ok but can't see anybody right now**

**Mike Chang: How?**

**Santana Lopez: Q's dad didn't like finding out his daughter had a gfriend with his fist **

Long pause

**Mike Chang: OMG**

**Santana Lopez: Pretty much**

**Mike Chang: Tell rest of Glee?**

**Santana Lopez: Yes but tell them it's on the DL—pending court case and all that shiz. If the other Gleeks wanna say something to R or Q—tell them write me and I'll put the txts tgthr and send them. Q doesn't need her phone blowing up**

**Mike Chang: OK. Let me know if I can help at all**

**Santana Lopez: Pray?**

**Mike Chang: I can do that**

**Santana Lopez: Thanks, my baby's brotha**

**Noah Puckerman: Lauren?**

**Lauren Zizes: O scrawny 1?**

**Noah Puckerman: So fkd up sad rt now. Cd u cm ovr and tlk?**

**Lauren Zizes: Abt?**

Puck sucked at texting and he knew it so he focused and typed.

**Noah Puckerman: Rach gay-bash skull broke doc sd shd be ok but freakin**

Lauren tended to dumb down to every text Puck sent her but this got away from her.

**Lauren Zizes: THE FUCK? The dwarf's head? I'll be right there. Drink two beers right this minute—not kidding—two in one minute**

**Noah Puckerman: Thks**

It went that way and so, gradually, everyone in Glee had been informed. Oddly enough, none of them thought to wonder why they just didn't call each other. But Quinn thought enough to make one call.

"Hi, Quinn. What's up?"

"Mr. Schue, I just wanted to let you know before you hear it from someone else that Rachel has suffered a fractured skull and she's in the hospital and that she and I will be out of school for the next few days."

"Oh my God—_what?_ Please say she's going to be okay."

"Her neurologist says she will be."

"Was it a car accident? Did she fall?"

There was a long pause before Quinn said, "No. My father found out we were together and he assaulted her."

"I can't…even…I don't know what to say. Can I come see her?"

"Not tonight. Call me tomorrow."

"I will."

"And Mr. Schue?"

"Yes?"

"I know, I really know you love Rachel as much as you love all of us Glee kids but when she gets back? This isn't a teaching moment. No attention please. This isn't an excuse for a musical lesson about tolerance. Do you understand?"

Will sat with that for a few seconds, understanding the complete truth of what the girl was saying because that's exactly what had been brewing immediately in his head, "Yes. I do."

"Thank you."

"Give her my love and tell her I'm thinking of her."

"I will."

* * *

They'd been moved to a private room by the time the Gleeks had been informed. When the nurse had left the room, Quinn smiled and said, "Our first hotel experience!"

Rachel grinned, "Right? And all courtesy of someone who certainly wouldn't want us in a hotel room together, if my head injury is any indication."

Quinn's face fell and Rachel wanted to smack herself in the forehead but couldn't.

"Come here and sit with me, baby. Not being able to turn my neck sucks."

Quinn sat on the bed and Rachel took her hand and said, "I'm sorry I said that. My reaction is to make light of this and yours is naturally to feel badly about it. As soon as that came out of my mouth, I thought about how I'd feel if the positions were reversed so I do really understand. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'll try not to be so sensitive."

"How about I try not to be so insensitive? I'm not the only victim of this crime. My fathers are and you and Judy are, too."

"It's not the same thing."

"No it's not. But you've all have been hurt and have feelings about it. I think I should say this quickly because I can feel my headache's ramping up and getting a lot, lot worse and I hope they'll give me something soon that might remove my capacity to think. Hopefully. Anyway, part of my journal stuff lately has been focused on how I sort of, and don't quote me on this, expect people to feel exactly the way I do about things."

"Really? I'm shocked."

Quinn was inwardly completely amused to see that Rachel was so exactly as she was describing herself that she didn't register any snark in this.

"I'm shocked myself. I watch you and how you react to people and it's so differently than how I do. For example, if someone thinks a song is wonderful and you think it's awful, you just laugh at them. I want them to understand it's awful and agree with me. Right that minute. I've come to believe I have a slight issue with control."

"Ya _think_? Only slight?"

Rachel narrowed her eyes suddenly, "Do I detect sarcasm? That isn't particularly supportive or appreciated when I'm attempting to express myself vulnerably, Quinn."

"You're right and I apologize, Rachel, but you need to understand that you're only telling me what anyone knows about you after only, maybe, five minutes of acquaintance."

"They _do_?"

"Yes. Completely."

"That's disconcerting."

"It shouldn't be. It's as plain as the nose on your face."

Long silence.

"Clarify for me. Was that not only what it denoted as a common aphoristic saying but also an intentional connotation of a big nose joke?"

Quinn smiled, leaned down and kissed Rachel's nose gently, "Yes to both. And I get to do that because you know I adore your nose and if you changed it I'd throw myself off some high building." She kissed it again, "Can I tell you something I've worked on with Dr. Southerland that might help you?"

"Yes, please. Kiss my nose again, first. It's very pleasant."

Quinn complied and then gently kissed her lips. "Dr. Southerland suggested very strongly I work on my quote unquote bitch issue only so much as I thought it would make me a happier person and make my relationships and life happier."

Quinn gently adjusted Rachel's blanket. "You looked chilly."

"I was. Thank you."

"Dr. Southerland explained to me and we've talked about this at great length. That part of me, that bitchy, mean and nearly sadistic part of me, will never, ever go away. It's part of my personality and if I understand that and I can control it? It can be a part of me to embrace and not feel guilty or sad about having. I suppose what I'm saying for you is _c__ontrol on_, Rachel. I don't mind it. It's actually pretty charming. But I appreciate your making an effort to understand that how I, and everyone else, might see and feel things differently than you do. And I think as you look at your control—I don't even want to call it an issue. Your need for control? Make friends with it and laugh at it and control it because it's not going anywhere. You'll always be this way."

Rachel scowled. "That seems very sad. I can't change it?"

"See? You want to control it and you can't. Of course, you can change to a degree. And no, sweetie—it's not sad. It's liberating. Make friends with yourself—all of you."

Rachel smiled up at Quinn, "You've made great strides in your therapy. I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you. I've worked harder on this than I have on anything else in my life—to be better for myself and to be worthy of you."

"It shows and you are but I find myself perplexed."

"Perplexity's a given. You're on drugs."

Rachel tried to smile but didn't. "Maybe not enough…my head is suddenly feeling really horrible." Her eyes instantly filled with fear, "Worse than horrible. Could you have Dr. Mac come? Right now?"

Quinn scrambled out of the room and within two minutes Dr. McNamara was in the room.

"What's your name, beauty?"

"Rachel Barbra Berry and I'm in the hospital in Lima, Ohio and I don't know what day it is and I remember how I was told this happened but I feel like my head's exploding."

Which was pretty much oriented x 4 as far as he was concerned.

He looked into her pupils, did a quick battery of neurological tests and said, "Rachel, my dear, you're having a pain crisis. It's not a brain event. I promise you with all my heart. I'll give you something very much stronger for the pain because now I know you can tolerate it. Just to be sure, I'll run an MRI but I promise you, it will be exactly as I say. I promise you. You and your lass can relax. You're going to have very strong pain medication, Rachel, and so I'm putting you on an IV drip of simple saline to keep you hydrated and to give you a quick port for your medication. I was trying to be nice and peppy about it but, in all actuality, this will be perhaps a three-night, four-day stint in the hospital. Just like a quick Caribbean vacation, without any of the amenities except food you stare at in consternation. You're not sicker than I knew you were but you're so tiny and this is not happy for you and you're not used to being ill are you?"

"I'm never sick."

"As you never should be. And won't be. I promise. And you'll be feeling better in about 15 minutes, you hear me?"

"Okay."

As he left, Quinn smiled at Rachel and said, "I have a question about bed arrangements."

Rachel tried to smile through a grimace of pain.

Quinn followed him out into the hall.

"Dr. McNamara! What the fuck?"

He looked at her. "Is that a question I can answer?"

"What's happening?"

"Nothing I didn't say, Quinn. You're children but you're not fools. She's in a pain crisis."

"Which means?"

Quinn's eyes were anguished and yet he could see there was something horribly angry about her he completely and personally understood that was ready to blast and needed help. "It means she's run through her pain medicine more quickly than she should have done. I gave her a low dose because she's so wee but obviously she's run through it. I'll give her more—much more. And she'll rest and get through it."

"But more MRIs?"

He lowered his voice, "Something to give her and you and her fathers a good feeling. She doesn't need it. But I can justify it clinically. As for her pain, may I speak frankly with you and use vulgarity that, although you're a child, you just used with me?"

"Yes. Please."

"How do you think your fucking head might feel if it were broken? Have you broken bones?"

Quinn almost smiled. "Yes."

"Did they hurt?"

"Yes."

"It's her skull, Quinn. Her _skull_. When something happens to your _head_, _believe me_, it feels very much more painful and personal than anywhere else. If you're lucky enough to feel the pain—and she is. She's in no danger. She's simply and sadly in pain. Which I will rectify."

"I'm sorry. I'm very protective."

"No worries. All the better for her. She needs it. And I'm sorry to say it, but tomorrow that collar's coming off, the catheter's coming out and she will feel so badly I will have to keep her nearly zonked because she will hurt far worse. She'll feel like she was in a car crash and barely survived it. And I mean not to cause you sorrow saying it because of how this happened but it's very nearly the truth. She could have died, quite easily. And look at me lass."

He said this because Quinn's eye's had dropped to his tie. He was proud of her because she pulled up her chin, met his eyes and looked suddenly ready for anything.

"My father was a working man of sorts yet not a man as he bashed my mother about terribly. I myself have never put an unhappy hand on a girl or woman in my life. But I used to think if I had been a better lad, he might not have been so toward her and was frightened I'd grow up to be like him. You see? It is childhood and the tricks of the mind it gives us. It's how you learn things that aren't true. Things you live through and must learn your way out of. It's just another serious and sad car crash _you've_ suffered through, my dear. I've suffered many of my own and I know."

She stared at him and then nodded. And he could see that was enough for her.

"As I said. The next day's always the worst day. She'll need 24/7 assistance through the whole of tomorrow and tomorrow night."

"She'll have it."

"Good."

"About waking her tonight?"

"Yes?"

"She sleeps like a rock without medicine. Like a rock. You have to shout to wake her—but then she jumps out of bed like a rocket. How will they do that every thirty minutes?"

"After this MRI, it'll be every hour. Crawl into bed with her and hold her down and don't worry if you don't completely succeed. Between us, I'm keeping her completely still not because she actually strictly requires it but because she's one of those people who needs to be forced into understanding the severity of an injury. Else she would be singing show tunes and dancing. You can't hurt her unless you whack her on the head again or jerk her neck around."

"I can sleep with her?"

"Absolutely. But in the sense of sleep. She doesn't need her pulse rate raised in another way."

"Doctor!"

"_What_? I was sixteen once." He winked at her, "Say goodnight to your lass, Quinn. Because I'm giving her something that will make her wonky, sure enough."

* * *

After 40 minutes, Rachel had had her second MRI and was completely out of pain to the point of anxiety for Quinn.

"So you see and as I told you, my beauty, you're brain is just fine."

"Thanks, Dr. Mac. Quinn's so…sssoooo pretty, isn't she?"

"She is that."

"Rachel?"

"Quinn?"

"Thank you, sweetheart, but I think you need to rest now."

Rachel pouted, "Really? That sucks. I never get to talk to anyone objectively about how you always make me—"

Quinn hurriedly pressed two fingers to Rachel's lips, "And you don't need to say whatever you were just about to say, darling. You need rest."

Quinn smiled a Fabray smile at Dr. McNamara and said, "I know what she's saying seems to allude to something salacious but I _assure_ you both of us are pretty much stuck, and almost tragically, at first base, so drug-talk notwithstanding? Just ignore this. Please."

He smiled broadly at her. "I will—and get some rest, ladies. You'll be awake in another hour. Rachel?"

Quinn took her fingers off the girl's lips.

"Yes?"

"Rest, my dear. Rest is curative. No more talking. I know you two have been talking too much. Say simple things. No more thinking and no more talking except for the simplest of requests or suggestions. No more."

"But I hate that."

"You can talk until you're blue in three days. But no. Tonight, just quiet and hugs and things like that. Go to sleep. You won't get any sleep, but you can try."

"Thank you."

"I live to serve. Get some rest, lasses."

* * *

Quinn finally just got up at two AM. Rachel snored instantly as soon as the nurse left the room every time she was checked. Quinn couldn't really sleep at all. She turned on the TV and watched Law and Order on many different channels and wondered, as she always did, how it was possible that it was always on.

* * *

Eric and Jacob arrived at 6:00AM, and hour before the shift change and, as Eric looked over Rachel's chart, he became furious and paged Liam.

The man arrived, looking no worse for wear, except for the shadow of a red beard on his face, "Good morning, my dears."

Eric shook his head, "Good morning? My baby had serious pain and you did another cervical spine and brain MRI on her and didn't call us?"

"There was no need, Eric."

"No need to inform her parents of serious pain that necessitated a serious test?"

Liam lowered his voice. "Ah. You talk to me so."

Eric lowered his, "Yeah, Liam, I do. What the fuck?"

"You jump to conclusions, do you? And don't trust me with my notes and what I leave out of them for insurance. That tells me something about your respect for me. Why inform parents of a bit of terrible pain that is completely to be expected which I completely arrested within minutes and of two tests I performed only to give comfort to a patient and her loved one so she could rest more easily? Solely to give comfort. Rachel and Quinn were upset so I gave them a bit of sugar water. And that's all. About $3500 of sugar water I knew was clinically unnecessary."

Eric realized the import of that and said, "Liam, I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be. I'll keep your child's case because I love her and I _am _the best person to take care of her. Don't talk to me now. You'll make it worse."

"Liam, wait—"

"No. I stayed here all night, Eric. And you question _me_? You're an excellent doctor but I am your superior by far in my field and you know it. I was giving you and Jacob rest, as I was trying to give the children. Just as I will today and tonight when I stay for your child yet again. Not because she needs it—because it will sooth her. Don't answer me and do not follow me. I have an Irish temper."

"Liam."

"No! Go see your injured but recovering daughter who I'll spend 48 hours with to make sure stays so. I'll warn you that she'll feel and look worse today than she ever will in her recovery. Do you trust me to medicate her appropriately or do you want to do that yourself, Eric, as the inexperienced not-neurologist you are? Oh excuse me, you can't. You don't know how to and you're her father. You can certainly get another neurologist. I'm one of three who serve this hospital. Choose."

Eric's shoulder's slumped. He'd massively fucked up in a way he couldn't understand. "You. Liam. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I need a shower. I will see you both later."

Jacob watched as the man left them and said, "What in the hell was that?"

"I don't know. Go see Rach. I'm going after Liam."

"But—what about—"

"I'm not putting Liam over Rachel, Jake. He's the best neurologist on this planet, maybe. I just gravely insulted him in some way and he's my friend. And he needs to take care of Rachel for both of us."

Eric walked into the doctor's lounge, where there were lockers, cots, showers and found Liam sitting on a bench taking off his shoes. Thankfully, they were alone.

"I told you to stay away from me, Eric Berry."

Eric sat on the bench next to Liam.

"I don't care. Hit me. I'm still your friend, Liam. I'm so sorry. I trust you completely as a physician—I'm just frightened and acting out. Pretend like I'm any crazy parent—not a doctor you know."

Eric watched silently as the posture of the man next to him slowly relaxed. "What can I say, Eric? I don't like these cases and they make me hard and mean. I don't like your questioning my intentions. My male patients I treat with the attention they deserve but I'm so careful with girls and women. To put it simply, my father dealt my mother a blow that gave her a fatal cerebral hemorrhage when I was twelve years. I don't take these cases lightly. Any man against a woman or child. But especially your child—a child I love. I'm unhappy and angry and I want to punch everything right now—lamps, all these fake plants, snack machines, those pictures in the waiting room, this really ugly carpet—everything."

Eric sat with the heaviness of that for a few moments and just knew he should say nothing about what Liam had just told him. So he said, instead, "You do understand the fact that you've noticed how horrible those pictures are and that this carpet is ugly means you're sort of gay?"

"Is that all it takes?"

"Yeah. Noticing interior design is like a gateway drug to totally gay."

"Is this what's keeping super-models off me?"

"Probably the only thing."

"Jaysus. I knew it was something!"

They sat for a few moments before Eric asked, "Are we okay?"

"We are."

"Are you okay?"

"As okay as a lad ever can be when he watched his da murder his mam in front of him and because he was holding two little lasses away from him could do nothing to stop it. It doesn't go away, my dear. It is what it is."

Liam clapped him on the leg and smiled, "That's why I love your beauty so dearly—she works through things but she still allows herself her feelings. You and Jacob are good fathers, Eric." He kissed Eric on the cheek. "Shower time and I won't ask you to join me. I don't go for married lads, no matter how often they ask."

* * *

Jacob thought Quinn looked quite rough but Rachel was shocking. Her face was completely discolored on one side and very horribly swollen. She tried to smile at him but settled with a wave, "Hi, dad."

He took her hand and said, "How are you, baby?"

"Hating life."

"Really?"

"No. It's a saying."

"Can I get you anything?"

"Something vegan and cold. Some sort of smoothie, maybe. And a spoon." As a sudden and complete non sequitur, she kicked her foot on the bed and said, "Quinn won't get in bed with me because it's daytime!"

"Frodo, be fair. They have to work around me if I'm in the bed."

"I don't care! Don't make me _cry_. My face will hurt!"

Quinn rolled her eyes at Jacob and dutifully got into bed, whereupon Rachel nearly instantly began to snore.

Quinn smiled ruefully at Jacob, "No, _seriously_. All night. That's how she's been all night. Evidently today will be worse. People think Rachel in Glee is a nightmare. They don't know _anything_."

And yet when she got up and sat on the side of the bed, she said, "Look at her, Jacob. Isn't she pretty?"

Jacob put his hand on Quinn's shoulder, "She's beautiful."

"We can't wash her hair yet so I'll put it in a loose pony for her later."

Jacob looked down at his daughter and then at the girl at her bedside. "You really love her, don't you?"

"Are you kidding? I'm only sixteen and I want to marry her."

* * *

Six hours later, through the miracle of texting and calling, everyone in Glee walked or wheeled into Rachel's room at the same time for what her parents and doctor had said would be one fifteen-minute visit. They were in attendance.

Rachel was sitting in her bed chair, as she had to be per doctor's instructions and had changed into gold star pajamas with Quinn's help. She looked, to all of them, shockingly awful. And they pretended that wasn't true, as she pretended she didn't see their reactions.

She said, "I apologize and I know what I look like. But that's going to go away. Thanks for visiting."

Kurt produced a vase with many red Gerber daisies surrounding a vibrant sunflower. "We wanted you to know that's how we feel. We're pretty—but we know who our star is."

Quinn held it in her lap as Rachel said, "Thank you. That's beautiful. I know you all next to always hate me but thank you."

That was such an abrupt slap in the face they all stood up straighter.

"Noah."

He jumped forward and knelt beside her. She ran her hand over his Mohawk. "Trading lunches in just a few days, okay?"

"Got it."

"I love you, Noah. And don't make a sex joke. You know how I mean that."

He nodded, "I wouldn't. I love you Rachel. I mean that."

As each of his kids expressed themselves to Rachel, Will felt like he often did, unequal.

"Finn."

"Hi, Rach."

"Come here."

He knelt beside her and she ran her hand through his hair. "Thank you."

"It was nothing."

"It was everything. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He moved away as Kurt knelt down beside her and began to weep even as he tried to smile and make a joke. "So you're making a point? You first, always, huh?"

"Me only, Kurt. We're both divas. But _this_? Only me. Never you. This will never be you. I'm happier that way."

"I'm not, Rachel."

"We don't get to choose."

Mercedes put a small knitted blanket around Rachel's knees. "My gran made this for me. Keep it to keep you warm, okay?"

"I will. And I'll give it back. Thank you."

When Lauren approached Rachel she very gently and surprisingly to everyone involved gave Rachel a kiss on the forehead and then gave Quinn a CD. "For your sperm-donor, blondie. I made a mix and thought you'd like to like to listen to it. It's shit he seriously wouldn't like to hear. I'm pissed and we're all trying to be all kumbaya about this but _no_."

"I'm the last effin' person to sing a song to you and the cheerleader but I put Kurt in a headlock because it's not in my range."

Matt pulled a very tiny boom-box from behind his back. Lauren said, "Someone hit our girl and hello? We're all just seriously wrecked and pissed but this is for _Quinn,_ not for you, Rachel. Because you're a fucking rock and she is, too, but this is worse for her. I know that, if nobody else but me and you do."

Rachel nodded, completely understanding.

Matt cued the music and as Kurt sang, Quinn forced herself not to cry.

_I fall apart when you're around_

_When you're here, I'm nowhere_

_I can't pretend that I'm not down_

_I show it, I know it_

_I've been a fool - more than once, more than twice_

_I'm gonna move to a new town where the people are nice_

_I hope I never, I hope I never have to sigh again_

_I hope I never, I hope I never have to cry again_

_I still want to beam and smile_

Happiness is back in style

_I hope I never, I hope I never have to see you again_

_Again, oh oh oh oh_

_It should be possible I know_

_To see you without stress_

_But I can see I'll have to go_

_I'm changing my address_

_My urge to cry I have failed to conceal_

_Life - it's no fun when you're hunted by the things that you feel_

_I hope I never, I hope I never have to cry again_

_I hope I never, I hope I never have to sigh again_

_I'm for living while you can_

_I'm an optimistic man_

_I hope I never, I hope I never have to see you again_

_Again, oh oh oh oh..._

_I hope I never_

_I hope I never_

_I hope I never, never, never..._

_I hope I never, I hope I never have to see you again_

_Again._

"Thank you Lauren."

"You're welcome, Quinn."

Will felt in that moment what he often felt. His kids were excelling. And although he wanted to lead, it wasn't always his choice.

* * *

After everyone, even their parents, had left, Santana and Brittany were hanging around.

"Q totally needs to nap on that little bed, San. I'll sleep with Rach."

"And where am I, Britts?"

"In the chair. Law and Order? It's always on."

"Right?"


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49: Chapter 49**

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.  
**

* * *

Before Brittany and Santana left in the late afternoon, Brittany said, "Sleep well and call if you need anything. I think it was super good what you did with Glee, Rach."

"Yeah, hobbs, that was a little pointed—but they needed it."

"Thank you." That didn't surprise Rachel from Santana but did from Brittany. The tiny girl hadn't been all that nice toward the end.

_Rachel had tried to smile through the short visit but really couldn't and everyone else tried to smile and really couldn't. Rachel, because she didn't particularly feel like it and the rest because they were frightened by this._

_Finally, she said, "I'm sorry I'm not as animated as I usually am but it's because I'm on drugs, guys, and it hurts to smile." _

_She waved her hand in the air, "It's not all that fun but who really cares? I'll be in school in a few days and irritating you just like always. This was just a much harder slushy with a slightly different flavor. I'm used to it." _

_She adjusted herself in her chair. "Everyone, take out your phones." _

_They all did. _

"_Point them at me." They did. "For my sake? On the count of one? Everyone take a picture of me. 3…2…1!" They all took a picture as she smiled her show smile, something that was agonizing for her in this instance. "There you go. Put it on the Internet, if you want. Rachel Berry at her best. Hope you all like it."_

_After a few moments of silence, Matt broke the silence. "Are you really that mad at us?" _

"_Matt? _You? _Not at all. The rest of you? Why would I be? I'm relatively inured to ridicule, scorn and abuse. I _will_ say I'm furious about what this injury means to my parents and to Quinn and her mother. I'm angry that my head hurts but that's nothing. My head and feelings have been hurt daily for years. Again? Who cares and who's cared? It happened and you should all just let it go, because I'm certainly going to. Unless by the wildest chance any of you want to be kinder to each other and other people than you usually are. That would certainly be novel on your part." _

_They looked at her and she at them. _

"_This is me on drugs and therefore just a little more real. I do have feelings and not all of them are about singing. I can be wounded too, you know, and I have been. I'm in terrible pain. I'm terribly sad. But, again, nothing new to me and I don't feel particularly invested right now in pretending I'm not hurt or making you all feel better for how you've treated me, although I promise you I'll redouble my effort when I get back to school. Thank you for coming and thank you sincerely for the flowers and for the song. If you don't mind I'd like to rest now. I'm very tired. "_

* * *

Quinn changed into her sleeping shorts and a t-shirt and when she came out of the bathroom, Rachel said. "Get in bed with me or I'll die."

"Hyperbole much?"

Rachel pouted and adjusted the icepack against her head. "No. It's the truth. My head hurts."

"Need for me to call the nurse?"

"No. I need you next to me."

Quinn got into the bed and under the covers and Rachel snuggled into her as Quinn embraced her. "I'm sorry if I came off a little cross in the visit today."

"No problem."

"I wasn't aiming any of that at you."

"I know you weren't but I felt it. I'm sorry you're so used to being hurt, sweetheart. You deserve to be angry just for yourself and I feel really badly or maybe worried that you won't let yourself be to keep from hurting my feelings."

"I _am _angry enough for myself, baby. My Viking funeral will be epic."

"Can we share?"

There was a long pause before Rachel said, "You want to share my Viking funeral?"

"Yes."

"When is the nurse coming in next?"

Quinn looked at the clock, "Hour and a half."

"Turn out the lights."

There was a long pause. "You don't have to, Rachel."

"No, angel. Of course, I want to share myself with you. And this is about as personal as I get."

"Okay." Quinn turned out the lights in the room with Rachel's remote.

"Close your eyes and keep them closed. It's completely dark, Quinn, except for the light of a full moon."

"And we're on a beach?"

"Yes. We hear the waves and we see a huge fire burning in front of us. It's nice and warm but the wind coming from the sea's a little chilly."

"And we can see the boat ready."

"Yes. It's wooden and the waves are lapping around one end but it's been pushed into the sand enough that it can't go anywhere without another push. We can hear the creaking of the wood as the waves hit it. There's a pyre of kindling in the middle of it."

"Okay."

"You have to remember to listen to the waves…and smell the sea…the salt air…feel the wind and watch the shoreline, okay?"

"Yes."

"We both have scrolls, with never-ending quill pens. Write down what you want to burn and give away, Quinn. Just relax and think of everything we can burn together or apart. Write it down."

A long few minutes went by and Rachel waited until Quinn said, "Okay. Are you ready?"

"Yes. Roll up your scroll. I have mine. Let's put them on the boat."

A long pause. "Done."

"Anything else for you? I'm putting the clothing I wore when I was assaulted on it."

A longer pause.

"I didn't write…I couldn't…I'm putting the…idea of my father out to sea."

Rachel, who actually did have something of a sixth sense, made no comment except, "Very well. Follow me. Grab a torch from the fire."

"Got it."

"Light our boat on fire…now…_wow_! See?"

"What?"

"It's caught fire—all of it. It's burning. It's huge, isn't it? My biggest one yet!"

Quinn's voice was tentative, "Yes."

"Yes. Just feel the cool sand under your feet and the heat of a fire so hot it's making your skin glow red."

Quinn struggled to imagine it. "I'm a little scared."

"Don't be. Not at all. I'm with you. I'm helping you and pushing with you. Imagine giving it all away, Quinn. Imagine us pushing this burning boat out to sea. Feel the rough wood of the boat and it's resisting us as it's scraping through the sand. It's so heavy with what we've put on it. But all we have to do is push. It's hard but it's also so simple. Let's just push it away."

Quinn did. She pushed furiously in her mind as Rachel said, "There! It's in the water. Hold the boat and keep moving. The water is warm for me, after all these years. But it might feel a little chilly for you. Feel the waves lapping on your feet…then your calves…and then your thighs…and then your stomach—waves crashing against us and defying us. Understand that. It's the defiance we have to overcome. One last hard push and let the waves take our boat. Again? 3…2…1. Push, Quinn, _push_!"

Quinn was thrown immediately back to that last push with Beth, that last bit of agony, and as she pushed the boat in her mind she completely lost herself in her imagination. She was letting some part of everything she was afraid of, made of, leave her. At least for now. Her father, her guilt, her anger…

"Yes! See, baby? The tide's taking it!"

Quinn whispered, "Yes."

"Good. It's burning and watch…"

They didn't say anything for a long, long time. "There…it's okay to be sad when it's dying but it's nearly beneath the waves, Quinn. Say goodbye to whatever you put on it and just let it go."

"Goodbye," Quinn whispered again.

"And look…one last flash of flame and it's all gone. We're wading back to the beach holding hands and even though the wind is making our wet clothes chilly, now we're in front of a warm fire and looking out at a loving, peaceful sea. Nothing but warmth and the moon and the sea and each other." Rachel buried her face in Quinn's neck. "I've never had anyone to help me before. I'm so glad it was you because that was the best ever. It was perfect." In moments, she began to snore.

Quinn smiled, even as she began to silently cry, feeling lighter than she had in years.

* * *

Sheriff Joseph Robert Evans was almost a caricature of a policeman. In fact, when he'd begun his training, his supervisor had taken one look at him said, "What the _hell_, son? The only other thing you could do is be an ugly actor _playing_ a cop on TV. No undercover for you. You're so obvious it stinks."

Job Bob had taken that as a tremendous compliment, worked himself up through the ranks and had garnered the community support to be elected sheriff. But he still looked like he always had, a small, muscle-bound, blond-haired, blue-eyed bulldog of a man, with a crew cut, a gun and absolutely no nonsense about him.

When Judith ben Israel opened her door and Joe Bob flashed his badge, she blanched a bit. "I'd like to talk to your son Jacob, ma'am, and obviously with you and your husband accompanying him because he's a minor."

She called out, a bit frantically, "Isaac!"

Her husband rushed to her side from another room and said, "Sheriff Evans? What brings you to our home?"

"Your boy."

"Come in and I will call him." Joe Bob nodded and entered their very lovely home.

"Jacob!"

"Dad?"

"Come downstairs now."

There was a loud clomping down the stairs and Jacob recognized the man right off, "I didn't do anything to Rachel."

Joe Bob smiled, "Nice to know. But I'll note the fact you thought I might think you had."

Isaac winced at that even as he said, "Is my son being accused of anything? Because I'll invoke his right to counsel if so."

"He's not being legally accused of a thing in this world. This is just a friendly visit. Could we all have a seat and let me explain?"

They led him into the kitchen where he was served coffee and Jacob only barely kept himself from writhing under Joe Bob's remorseless gaze.

"One of your son's schoolmates was brutally attacked and is in the hospital. He's already given her name. Rachel. Rachel Berry."

Jacob started a little in his chair, which Joe Bob noticed. "Yeah. Her, Jacob. She was viciously assaulted and I happen to know you had nothing to do with it."

Both of Jacob's parents' shoulders relaxed at this.

"You know your boy has a blog about his high school and the people in it?"

They both nodded.

"You ever read it?'

They both shook their heads no.

"I don't blame you. As a parent myself, it'd be too much for me because it _is_ a little disgusting. Did you know he's a bit of a pervert about Rachel? He stalks her and treats her pretty damned bad on the Internet."

Isaac thumped his hand on the table. "How so?"

"Did I mumble? He stalks her and puts half-facts and his half-fantasies on the Internet."

"Or perhaps he has a crush, Sheriff Evans, and writes about her. That is normal for a boy his age."

"A crush? Yes ma'am. That would be normal for a normal boy to have a normal crush on a very pretty girl. But I'd call it a little more than that. Because I happen to have seen hundreds of screen shots of his behavior toward her I was provided by her parents, who actually monitor how their minor child interacts with the Internet and how people on the Net interact with her. And, yes if you're wondering, that was a jab at both of you."

He scooted his chair back away from the table a bit, "Would it interest you to know last year that your precious little Jacob found out a very sad and serious secret only he and Rachel knew concerning a third party at school? And that he actually demanded a pair of Rachel's underwear as a payment, so to speak, for not putting that secret out on the Internet? Which is actually called extortion, legally. He committed a crime. That is to say, he unlawfully obtained property through coercion."

"_No_. No, he didn't," Judith answered.

"Oh yes ma'am. He did. I'm telling you right here and now I won't charge him with it because he's a waste of money and skin so tell the truth to your mother, Jacob, because I have witnesses and Internet evidence."

Jacob didn't know what to do under that steely glare.

His father's gaze was far worse. "The truth, Jacob."

The boy whispered, "Yes."

"_Oy_," Judith whispered.

Joe Bob didn't whisper. "Like I said, I'm not charging you with anything. But I'm telling you something. You're a pervert—a complete pervert. And not because of the reasons you're probably thinking. I don't judge what people do with each other sexually on a consensual basis as long as they're age appropriate and nobody gets hurt. Never have, never will. But you forced your attentions and demands on someone who didn't like them and didn't want to agree to them. If she had liked them, agreed to them willingly, good for both of you. But she didn't. So listen up. I swear before God, if you ever approach Rachel Berry again, good luck, buster."

He leaned forward, "Because believe me, Jacob ben Israel. You take one picture of her injuries at school and post it on your blog and link it with who did it, which is going to be easy enough to find out? I will find a way to convict you of a crime. Identifying a minor child who's the victim of a violent crime is off the map with me and with our D.A. _Yeah._ I talked to D.A. Anderson about it. And about you very, _very_ specifically. Got that? You're on the radar with our District Attorney. Do it and we will find a way to make you pay a price legally. Anderson likes perverts who prey on minor children just about as much as I do and she'll go through your entire blog for evidence that you've obtained certain information illegally, which I've already seen. She'll do it and she told me to tell you that's a promise."

He stood and smiled at Jacob's parents, "Just a friendly warning to you and your sweet pervert of a boy."

"Stop referring to my child as a pervert!"

"Sorry about that, Mr. ben Israel, but why don't you tell me what _you'd _call someone who extorted _panties_ from an emotionally-cornered and incredibly tiny girl for his own personal sexual gratification?"

Jacob stifled a yelp and Judith started at this but Isaac held her back.

"What? Stove just a little too hot for you, Jake? Why on Earth_ would_ a boy extort panties from a beautiful girl? Given her size, I can't imagine you wanted to make a kite or had some other craft project in mind. _No_. Word to the wise. Girls like all sorts of guys. Look at me. I'm short and I'm plug-ugly as sin. But I had lots of dates and a few really lovely girlfriends before I met and married my wife. Find willing girls who share your interests. My unsolicited advice? Cut that ridiculous hair of yours and get off the damned Internet."

He ran his hands through over his nearly non-existent hair, "I understand some kids don't like sports and you look like one of them. But get into a private gym, boy, and get stronger and prouder of yourself physically. Make yourself a man who can have a real relationship with a woman, not some blackmailing, pervy panty-sniffer who has to commit crimes to get them, okay? Not in my town. I _will_ be watching you until I'm out of office and I betcha I'll be in Lima longer than you are. Thank you for the coffee. Night, sir. Night, ma'am."

Joseph Robert Evans strode out to his car with a smile on his face. Fuck with his goddaughter and his best friends? Not on his watch.

After the sheriff left, Judith ran to her room to cry.

Jacob's father glared at him. He loved his son dearly but the next day, Jacob ben Israel was sporting a crew cut, had severely blocked Internet access, no credit card, no camera, no allowance and a cell that could only call 911, his parents and had no camera features. It was also his first day with his new gym membership and he wasn't quite sure his physical trainer wasn't a friend of the sheriff's who was trying to murder him.

* * *

After a fitful night of off-and-on sleep, Rachel was incredibly cranky the next morning and complained about everything as a very worse-for-wear Quinn and a fairly rested Eric and Jacob looked on.

"Yes, lass, the day after hurts the worst but the day after the day after is the misery. One more night in." Dr. McNamara's smiled at her. "No vertigo or nausea when you stand or walk?"

"No."

"Good. Still and all, no unassisted changes in elevation or walking for the next three days. You can have an assisted bath today. But no showering or washing that head yet."

"I can't wash my hair? That's disgusting."

"Think of it as a hot oil treatment and as this as a spa."

She kicked her foot in the bed, "With terrible food!"

"Ah. See? You're pining for home. It's a good sign. You're doing well, my beauty, but your lass is taking good care of you and I can see it."

Rachel's frown turned into a small, shy smile, "She is. She's perfect."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "I am _not_. Don't listen to her. She's had a head injury."

Liam smiled at Quinn, then said to Rachel's fathers, "Your child is making great strides. One more MRI today. Just to be sure. Completely unnecessary."

Rachel brought the focus back to her. "Good. When can I go back to school?"

"Well…I'm a bit concerned about that. Not for the mental part. Although I tried to be optimistic for you, I can't be having you fall, anyone agitating you or having anyone hit you, even with a slushy."

"Dads!"

"We had to tell him what you're facing, baby girl."

"She can go home tomorrow but she needs another week at home and then very, very carefully managed school-time as she's healing."

"Dr. Mac? I will lose my mind if I stay at home for a week knowing I'm falling behind in my studies."

"Lass, it'll be days, no matter what. You're barely eating solid food and you can't even wash your hair."

Quinn hastened to say, "Slushies are over. No one will touch her. And I know that every person in the Glee club will walk with her to her classes. But I'll force Figgins, and I can through Coach Sylvester, to give Brittany an excuse to be late to every class. We can all walk with her but no one would touch Britts and no one would be quicker than she is to keep Rachel physically safe."

"Truly?"

"Did Ms. Sokoll make an impression on you?"

"Absolutely. Indelible."

"I'd think so. And you remember Brittany, don't you?"

"Of course. Charming lass."

"Brittany is a larger, stronger and younger version of that old woman. She's equally physically capable of not only keeping Rachel from falling and, if we explained the situation, just as unforgiving to anything or anyone who approached them."

"That's slightly terrifying."

"It should be. She acts like a puppy but I assure you she's not."

"See, Doc Mac? I can go back to school right away."

"Tell you what, little one. Take a bath and see what that takes out of you."

"Why? It's just a bath."

"You have a fractured skull, Rachel Berry. You're hard-headed but you're no simpleton. Take a bath and see how you feel."

"I'm sure I'll feel refreshed and—"

"Shhh, Frodo." Quinn climbed into bed with Rachel and the smaller girl immediately rested her head on Quinn's shoulder, "As I was saying I'm quite…sure…I'll…"

Snoring.

Jacob frowned anxiously, "Is that normal?"

"What? That Rachel sleeps when her lass gives her comfort because she needs it? Perfectly. She needs rest more than anything. Today is Wednesday. She can go home tomorrow with very strict limitations. She can go to school next Wednesday with my most dire instructions that nothing touch her. If you feel you can ensure that, I'll give a guarded yes to it. But you must understand, I mean a regimen of nothing but school and rest. Nothing but. No dancing and no exercise. And I know that will be hard for the girl but that's what she needs."

* * *

When Rachel woke up hours later, she found her fathers had left for a few hours and she was irritable after being informed she'd have to wait to go back to school but it turned out to be very short storm. "About this bath..."

"I'm assuming you still want one?"

"Of course I do. Daily hygiene is very important to me."

Quinn smiled to herself before saying, "Naturally. I looked into the particulars of it. You need assistance getting in and out of the tub just in case. Maria's a really nice nurse's assistant on shift and she can help…or I could help you instead if you want."

Rachel looked at Quinn and blinked. "But that would mean you'd see me naked."

"Yes, nudity _is_ basic bath wear."

"That…somewhat unsettles me." Quinn had now helped Rachel change a number of times but had always averted her eyes.

Quinn smiled at her sweetly, "I completely understand. No worries. Let's get Maria."

Rachel shook her head, immediately regretted it and gripped the blanket in her hands, "I have to remember that. Head injury—no shaking. No. I don't want Maria. I want you to help me."

"Okay. I'd be happy to. And this is just a bath, okay, not sexy bathing. I understand that."

Rachel furrowed her brow, "But this will be the first time you'll encounter me unclothed."

"Encounter? You make it sound like a National Geographic special, sweetie. 'Up next? The first time a woman has encountered another unclothed.'"

Rachel kicked her foot on the bed. "I'm not used to it!"

"I'm not either, Rachel. Naked girls are a dime a dozen in my Cheerios world. But I'm not used to you. I'll talk to your nurse and make sure I know what to do, you can take a bath, we can watch dumb TV and later your dads can bring us dinner."

"Very well. I want you to help me."

"Very well. I will."

While Rachel slept, Jacob had brought his daughter's favorite bath salts, body gel, facial soap, body lotion, skin toner, facial lotion and flannel cloths for her facial products and hadn't even had to explain the explosion of products to Quinn. He told her she was lucky she didn't have to deal with the hair products yet.

She'd looked at it all and sighed. After all, she was a girl, too. But damn. Honestly, if she'd wanted to date a gay guy…she would have. Sam?

Quinn put a change of pajamas on the sink, a towel on the lowered toilet seat lid and ran the bath. Rachel began to instruct her from the bed but Quinn said loudly, "Don't bother, Rach. Your fathers told me to make it hot enough to parboil an egg." She added bath salts, tested it for heat, then closed the shower curtain to keep the steam in.

"C'mon little pony, time for a bath." Quinn helped Rachel out of the bed and held her tight as she walked. "This is unnecessary. I'm perfectly well, Quinn."

"I know that. And you're staying that way."

When Quinn had guided Rachel onto sitting on the toilet, she closed the door. "That'll keep it nice and toasty for you, sweetie."

"Now off with that top." Quinn tried to keep her voice matter of fact and she thought she'd succeeded but Rachel's enormous eyes were blinking anxiously.

"I can call Maria, Rachel," Quinn said quietly.

"No. You don't have to. I want you to help me." She looked down at the floor, "But this isn't how I wanted you to see me the first time."

"I understand that. Me neither. But—hey—first we'll get that gorgeous hair out of the way." She pulled the scrunchie holding Rachel's pony out of her hair and arranged it into a loose bun. "Okay. Let's do this thing. The rules are that you're supposed to do as much of this undressing and bathing as you can for yourself."

Rachel unbuttoned her top, removed it and Quinn forced herself to stare into Rachel's eyes until, within fifteen seconds, Rachel had to snicker and put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "There are two really tiny elephants in the room. Quinn? Say hello to my breasts. You _can_ actually look at them. You're my girlfriend and I'm really nervous about it? But _you_ look really pale."

"Sorry," Quinn said as she hesitated, then looked down at Rachel's chest and took a deep breath, "I'm experiencing an extraordinarily strong affirmation of my lesbianism. Not that I mind that—but, well, it's—_you_—you're a little breathtaking."

Rachel looked down at herself, "They're small."

"And by that you mean they're perfect?" Quinn stared at the vision before her.

"Is this where I'm supposed to say my eyes are up here?"

"Probably. But you did say I could look."

"I did. And I won't say what I really want to because it would probably be bad for my blood pressure."

"Right." Quinn smiled and knelt before her. "Let's finish getting you undressed. Don't want your water to get cold."

Rachel stood and smiled down at Quinn, "Let's always say that when we want each other naked, okay?"

"Okay."

Rachel pulled her pajama bottoms and panties off, leaving her naked before a kneeling Quinn. "I shave under my arms and my legs as is usual for most Western women but as you can see? I groom myself but I don't shave hair that's a secondary sexual characteristic of adulthood. I'm emotionally and mentally still a teenager but I'm physically a woman and I see no reason to look like a child sexually. Unless of course you have strong feelings about the issue and as my lover, you can give an opinion."

Quinn stared at her and said, "If you changed anything about your body, I'd revolt. Like in a French Revolution storm the Bastille and heads rolling in the streets style revolt. You're perfect just the way you are."

Rachel looked down at Quinn and cupped her cheek, "Just to be clear? You'd cut off heads before you'd let me shave my pubic hair? And you call _me_ the drama queen?"

Quinn stood and pulled the shower curtain aside with a scowl. "Bath time for Bonzo."

"I understand that cinematic reference and I resent it."

"Resent away. I resent your calling me a drama queen."

They both smiled inwardly as Quinn helped Rachel into the bathtub.

As Rachel settled into the water, she sighed in bliss as Quinn took a seat next on the floor next to the tub. "This is surprisingly perfect, given the circumstances."

"You're perfect, Rachel."

"I'm not."

"And you're not looking at what I am."

Rachel blushed, "This would be so much more fair if you weren't wearing clothes."

"It might be more fair but it would be so much more than a bath. And speaking of? Time for your bath."

"You're a party pooper, Quinn."

Quinn leaned forward and kissed her bare shoulder. "Sorry sweetie, but doctor's orders plus your dad brought the full panoply of products you use so, as San would say, you needs to gets to work. Personally, I use Ivory soap. Full stop. I'm sort of a hot dog with mustard bather—you're a chili cheese slaw dog with sauerkraut bather."

"I can't believe you compared me to a such a vile concatenation of unethically produced foodstuffs!"

Quinn dipped a face flannel in the hot water and lathered it with Rachel's facial soap. "Face first and I'm not sure that's a proper usage of that word."

"Of course it is, in the sense it's a series of interconnected things," Rachel said as she dutifully washed her face. "Think of it, Quinn. A hot dog is made of heaven knows what. And chili?" She glared at the girl meaningfully as she very gently washed the injured side of her face, "and cheese as we know is not vegan and cole slaw is typically concocted with mayonnaise, which contains eggs. You're comparing to me to a vegan's nightmare."

"Uh huh. Rinse your face, angel."

Even as she rinsed her face, Rachel kicked her foot in the tub, splashing the water. "You're not respecting my dietary preferences!"

"When you're sick, you sure stamp a lot, little pony. And of course I respect your preferences. Now on to the body. Here's your body gel and here's a nice body wash cloth." As a frowning Rachel took them, Quinn said, "I should have said you're a tofu pup with your choice of condiments. I apologize."

"Much better. Tofu pups are quite delicious."

"More for you, sweetie. I've had them—they taste a lot like those really cheap hot dogs that are made of stuff you really don't want to know about. Except not as good and four times as expensive. Texture-wise, though, about the same."

"That's disconcerting. When did you eat them?"

"Pregnancy craving. Not for a tofu pup but for something different. It was different, alright."

"Although I find it sexually arousing to be bathing in front of you, I'm oddly pleased we can talk about tofu pups at the same time. Tell me what other vegan items you don't like."

Quinn leaned forward and kissed Rachel very gently on the lips, then returned to her seat on the floor.

"Seitan."

"Seitan's delicious!"

Quinn wanted to agree about the delicious part but only because Rachel was washing her breasts. She shook her head and replied, "It can be tasty but the texture's totally wrong."

"Wrong for _meat_. It's not wrong for ethically produced meat substitute."

"I agree. It's not. It tries but it's a _substitute_. It tastes like cardboard meat. I'd rather eat vegetables and legumes or something rather than pretend I'm having something I'm not really having."

Rachel understood something else was being said, stopped bathing and looked at Quinn, who stared down at the tile on the floor before meeting the girl's eyes again. "I'd just rather ask for what I really want and need, Rachel, than accept some cardboard cutout of something I've been trained is what I should want."

Rachel smiled. "I see real bacon in your future."

"Figuratively speaking, of course?"

"Of course."

"Wash your back?"

"Why else are you here?"

"To please?"

"You do."

* * *

The night before, Finn had stomped downstairs into their mutual room after being separated from Kurt by the boy's short visit to Mercedes' home. The boy looked as despondent as he felt. "Dude? Wanna watch a movie?"

Kurt looked up at Finn, and seeing emotion coming off on him in waves, sat up and replied, "Sure. Your choice. Seriously. Don't think it has to be a musical. Let's butch it up. We're both angry."

Finn thought about that. Butch? "How about _300_? I mean, it's badass but even I can see the guys are sort of hot."

"Excellent choice. Exceptionally attractive men epitomizing the very definition of gay fetishism who kill each other in an ultra-violent straight male fashion. I'll pop some popcorn, tell the parentals we're brotherly bonding and you make the drinks."

"I sort of got a six-pack from Puck."

"All the better. Three each."

"Four for me. I'm bigger."

Kurt tried to smile, "No. I'm gayer and therefore more traumatized."

"You weren't there holding her head and wondering if she'd die or be paralyzed."

Kurt winced, "Three each!"

As they watched the movie, Kurt glanced at Finn and could see the boy was watching and not watching, just as he was. The popcorn had vanished, as had the beer. Halfway through the film, Kurt glanced and saw tears running down Finn's face. He hesitated and then put his hand on Finn's. Finn didn't turn from the screen but he took Kurt's hand and held it.

When the movie was over, Finn wiped his eyes, gently removed his hand from Kurt's, sat up and said, "Badass, wasn't it?"

"Completely. And you know what? If Lena Headey weren't partnered, I'm not sure I couldn't rethink the gay thing for one night. She rocks the semi-Cleopatra."

Finn clapped him on the shoulder and said, "I know right?" He sat for a few seconds and said, "If anyone ever touches you or says a word to you again at school or like anywhere at all, tell me and I'll hurt them." He grinned, "Well, me and Santana. She's scarier."

"She is."

"Thanks for watching with me."

"I enjoyed it."

"I'm gonna crash." He kissed Kurt on the cheek and stood up. "Get some rest, bro."

Kurt was so stunned by the kiss that he actually confessed, "If you'd done that a year ago, I'd have been on Cloud 9."

Finn's smile was sad, "If I'd done that a year ago, I'd be playing you. Now it means I love you."

"I love you, too." Kurt waved his hand, "See? That wasn't so hard. The world didn't end. I remain gay and you remain straight. And speaking of? I didn't want to tell you prematurely but I happen to know a Carmel girl has her eyes on you and Blaine knows her, says she's really hot and he's working on the set-up so sleep well, Finn."

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely. Gay Mafia at your service."

"What's she like?"

"Shorter than you, but who isn't. I've seen pictures. Hot, and remember my world is generally comprised of yawn girl, yawn girl, fabulous outfit girl, BOY, yawn girl. See? When _I_ can see the hot?"

Finn grinned, "I got it. Goodnight, yawn boy."

"Oh my God! Finn Hudson! I'm so proud of you! That was completely a pun!"


	50. Chapter 50

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**A/N: Sorry about the monster delay. Oral surgery done. Success! Leg injury ½ through recovery. It's going to be just fine and thanks for your well wishes. It seems ominous that I've had so many injuries while writing this. Nevertheless, full speed ahead…**

**Lotsa WMHS…and remember the timeline is my own, folks. _My_ Coach Sylvester may seem a little OOC but she'd actually have a tiny bit of emotional character consistency and never hurt someone like Brittany (shoot her out of a cannon—not). And if you don't know Duck Duck Goose is a children's game, it is.**

* * *

When the members of the Glee Club returned to school the day after visiting Rachel, they were astonished to find that their fellow students almost immediately shrank back from them, registering from their faces that something very bad and important had happened.

Will Schuester was ashen; the absence of Quinn and Rachel was noted and every one of the Gleeks was visibly upset and even more visibly angry. With their two comrades out, aside from Santana and perhaps Puck, most of the kids in Glee had never realized that their attitudes could really speak volumes. Kurt and Mercedes had always tried to throw attitude but throwing real anger was something very different.

Worst of all, even Brittany looked angry and that never bode well for anyone in school. The gossip circuit ran wild.

* * *

"Kurt?"

Kurt turned from his locker and faced, "David?"

"What's going on?'

Kurt squared his shoulders, "What do you mean?"

"Something's wrong with the Glee people. Can we…maybe…talk about it privately?"

"Without your assaulting me or is that part of this equation? If so, I'm all out of tolerance for gay-bashing this week."

"I won't hit you. I haven't done anything to anybody in a long time."

"A long time? As in a few weeks after it became in your physical and social best interest not to do so? I see an Eagle Scout badge for tolerance in your future."

Karofsky shifted in place and whispered harshly, "I didn't say I deserve—I didn't _say_ that. But you _know _I'm trying and you can't say I'm not. I'm worried because you're all acting weird and it's not like Rachel not to be at school and I know this is study period for both of us so…"

"I'll talk to you in my car. If, of course, you can be seen going to a car with a gay boy."

"I can. No problem."

Kurt shouldered his bag and as Karosky followed slightly behind him, Finn approached and said with a depth of ferocity and conviction he'd never shown in the halls of WMHS, one Kurt was tremendously impressed by, "Is this douche bothering you, bro?"

"I don't believe he is, Finn. He wishes to discuss something privately and I suppose I'll survive the encounter."

"For God's sake, Kurt, I said I wanted to talk to you—not hurt you."

"Hold up!" Karofsky's blood chilled as he turned to face Santana, Brittany and Puck.

"Ssup, Karofsky?"

Santana. Worst of all possible outcomes.

"I just wanted to talk to Kurt about Rachel."

"And you care because?"

"She helped me and she's not in school and I'm worried about her."

"Oh. So _now _you care. Just like you cared about her with all those slushies?"

Karofsky's eyes bored into hers, "I guess I cared about as many times as you ordered them."

That was such a true slap-back for Santana that Brittany quickly stepped forward. "You've both been super mean to Rach. But we're all friends now and you can't be mad that we don't trust you with Kurt. Just know if you hurt him, we'll all be on you so bad it won't ever end, okay?'

Karofsky nodded and followed Kurt.

Santana punched a locker twice, walked quickly to the nearest bathroom, frightened everyone out of it and slid to the ground, crying.

When Puck asked whether Brittany wanted to follow Santana, she shrugged, "No. She'd totally hate it if I saw her crying about hurting Rach and we both know she will be so don't tell."

Puck nodded because he hadn't known that but always completely understood Santana when Brittany explained her to him. He put his arm over the girls's shoulder and walked her to class, saying "Duck… duck…"

She hip-bumped him, "Goose!"

* * *

Kurt opened his car and Karofsky took the passenger seat. It was cold outside and Kurt _felt_ cold, physically and emotionally. He didn't know that David felt even colder because he was frightened to ask questions for which he was pretty sure he wouldn't want the answers.

"What do you want to know, David?"

"About Rachel. Like I said, she doesn't miss school. Where is she?"

Kurt looked into Karofsky's eyes and found only concern. "It won't be a secret for long but it's a secret for now. Can you keep a secret? We both know _I_ can."

Karofsky nodded. "I won't tell anyone."

Kurt took out his phone and flipped through pictures on it, "David Karofsky, meet the new face of gay-bashing."

David looked at the picture of Rachel smiling, with her livid, swollen, purple face and gasped. Tears welled in his eyes, "No. No way. Is she going to be okay?"

"Yes. But she's in the hospital. She has a fractured skull."

"Oh my God. _Why_? How?"

"_Why_? She's in a relationship with Quinn. They're gay. Quinn's father found out and assaulted Rachel. _Why?_ The same reason you push me into lockers and call me names, the same reason you hurt other kids. And I don't want to hit _you_ while you're down but look at Rachel's face."

Kurt's voice rose in anger and volume.

"Is she going to be okay? Of _course_ she is. She's Rachel Barbra fucking Berry. Am I okay? _No_. Not so much. I'm not her and I know that. But I always look to her and take courage from her and I am _not _going to break. Do you ever ask yourself whether some of these other pipsqueaks you've tortured might be okay? People who aren't as strong as she is or as strong as I am? Look at that picture, David. Imagine them trying to smile on the outside and feeling that way on the _inside_—bruised and battered and maybe wanting to fucking kill themselves because of you."

David was frankly crying at this point. He didn't meet Kurt's eyes, just kept them on the picture.

"Rachel can take it and pull through it but don't think that, no matter how I look on the outside, I haven't felt exactly like that picture after you've assaulted me and frightened me. Just like every kid you've ever hurt. And, for that matter, don't think I don't know _you_ sometimes feel as battered as I do, even if it's only because you're frightened of what it means to be who you are."

David looked at the picture, made a motion to touch it and quickly withdrew his hand. He wiped his eyes. "What can I do?"

Kurt took his phone from the boy's hand, "Nothing. Just keep being David. Not Karofsky."

"I can stop with the asshole but I don't think I even know how to be what I am right now."

"And you know what—maybe even if you knew? Maybe you still couldn't be yourself right now. I get that. But when you're in college and away from your home or in your first real job and supporting yourself? I've read enough and seen enough to know you don't always get to be out and proud when you're a teen. I'm so obvious that I couldn't keep it secret and I lucked out with my father. You're not obvious and not so lucky with your parents so, sure, you might need to keep the lid on it until things change for you. But it will change and one day being gay is going to be something you think of as just about as interesting as having brown hair. It's just you. It's going to be okay."

David sat with that for what seemed like a long time but Kurt didn't interrupt his thoughts.

"You think so? Really?"

"It won't be easy but I know so. Promise." Kurt handed the boy a tissue and he blew his nose.

Kurt smiled at him and David grinned as he said, "So you're saying I won't have a boyfriend until I'm in college, I guess."

"No you won't, unless you change your wicked ways."

David laughed, "I sorta know that was a double entendre. You mean I'm a shitbird plus the musical. I sorta speak French as a second language. My mother's French."

Kurt gaped, "Really?"

"Yeah. You don't know everything about me." He fiddled with the door handle and asked from out of nowhere, "So that Blaine guy? Is he your boyfriend?"

"Blaine and I are only friends."

"Too bad, I guess. I mean he's cute, sorta, in a too good looking and talented to be true sorta way."

Kurt had so few gay male friends that he immediately gushed, "I know! He's like Prince Charming, isn't he?"

"Yeah. If you like that sorta guy."

"Who doesn't?"

David looked at him for a long moment before answering, "I know right? Who doesn't? And I know what I'm talking about. Look at me. I'm nobody's Prince Charming. Thanks for talking, Kurt, and I won't say anything about Rachel. Please tell her I hope she feels better soon. I promise she won't be surprised I said so."

"Will do."

"And please tell Santana you're okay or Brittany will kick my ass."

Kurt laughed. "No problem."

He watched David walk away from his car and was saddened to watch with every step, his body language returning to that of the person he'd always been assumed to be, just another high school asshole jock. Suddenly the boy turned, pointed a finger at him, did a Single Ladies hand wave at him, pointed at his ring finger, did the slightest of kicks and smiled before returning to the building.

Kurt waved at him. And laughed, feeling a lump in his throat. Because David wasn't there yet but he would someday definitely be someone's Prince Charming.

* * *

There were few things worse than being called into Coach Sylvester's office without Quinn. Santana would never admit it to anyone but, although she enjoyed one-upping Q as captain, she really preferred having a Q-layer of insulation. Quinn and Coach Sylvester totally understood each other, which was scary as shit in Santana's estimation and had given her a level of frightened respect for her best friend she rarely admitted even to herself.

"Close the door, S and take a seat." Santana could feel her pulse race as she did so.

Coach Sylvester said nothing, so Santana ventured, "You said you wanted to meet with me?"

It was always stranger and scarier when Coach spoke softly and only slightly half-crazily.

"Yes. Yes, I did. I wanted to know why my captain's not in school and the Glee Club looks like someone threw their lollipops in a vat of botulism and popped them back into their mouths. I also want to know why Will Schuester forgot most of his petroleum hair products today, considerably lessening the carbon footprint on planet Earth if only for a day and leaving him with virtually non-gay-man-hair for a show choir teacher. But especially? I _especially_ want to know why that dwarfish Jewish girl sounding counter-intuitively like a Wagner Valkyrie infesting the hallways and my ears every chance she gets isn't in school today."

"I guess you've heard something about that?"

"I may have. I _do_ have moles everywhere. Moles as in spies, not the rodents."

As the words came out of her mouth, Santana thought even Rachel couldn't fuck up saying something that was _so_ beside the point. "Actually, Coach? Moles aren't rodents—they're in the phylogenetic order of _Sericomorpha_."

Coach Sylvester blinked. "I see. All I can say is that every human mole I've ever known was a rodent. You were saying about the dwarf before you were waylaid by your apparently more than passing acquaintance with garden pests?"

Santana sweated through this and her response took all of two seconds to formulate. Quinn had always told her that, occasionally, telling Coach the plain truth often and oddly enough worked, so she quickly rambled through her answer, "Rachel was gay-bashed by Russell Fabray. She and Quinn are in a relationship and Russell found out and fractured her skull and so Quinn's taking care of Rachel in the hospital."

Santana had a habit of only half-meeting her coach's gaze, so she couldn't be sure but she thought the woman's eyes tightened at this. "Will Yentl be okay?"

"Her neurologist says she will be."

Coach nodded. "Understood. So." She drummed her fingers on her desk, "Don't think I can't keep count. Not only are you slipping and letting your intelligence show like a thong paired with a bad tramp stamp but all three of my head Cheerios are daughters of Sappho."

Sylvester's face was completely blank and Santana felt sweat running down her back.

"Yeah. I mean yes, Coach. Sorry about that. But…uh…I guess…maybe we can resign if you want?"

"_Resign_? Resign. Not that I ever explain myself but do you now understand why, my stupid-pregnancy punishment aside—Q's stupidity—not mine, she will always be the captain on this squad as long as she's in school? The people in this school see you and, if you're angry, they're frightened and they sweat. But I've never seen Q sweat. I like that about her."

Santana nodded vigorously. "Me too. But she really wasn't stupid, Coach. She's just a teenager and she messed up." Then almost groaned as she thought _whatthefuckshutupshutupshutup_.

It was almost as if the woman could read her mind, "S? It's like you just took verbal Ipecac." She waved one hand in the air, "Stupid and teenager? Synonymous. As for resigning. It's pointless. The harm's done. You're all slavering over lady-flesh but at least it's contained. That's what we always said working on overheating nuclear reactor cores back in the day."

Santana blinked, trying to keep up. "Well, yeah. It's not like we're not interested in other people."

"What do you need?"

"What?"

"What do you need from me in this situation?"

This…_offer_ was so foreign to Santana that it took her a few seconds to say, "We need Britts walking Rachel to her classes because Rach needs protection and you know—"

"Right. The 11th Commandment. Look at me, S?"

Santana looked into her Coach's crazy eyes, which were uncharacteristically soft, "I've always been proud of you for the 11th Commandment. You're ruthless for the only reason that really matters. Not that I've ever need reasons for destruction, personally. Get out of here and I'll make it happen."

"Thanks, Coach."

"And I know you so you understand _this _never happened?"

"Totally."

* * *

**Glee!**

No one was in the mood, Will saw that. "I don't feel this today, either. And we can't sing this away, guys. Any ideas?

Matt was, oddly enough, the one to speak. "I want to talk about what Rachel means to us. I mean, even the bad stuff. She's coming back, thank God, but I think we should just get it out there. Because we all heard what she said in the hospital. Good and bad—the crap we throw hurts her and I think we should just get it out and look at it and stop it."

Will allowed it and they all fumbled and fussed, then inevitably laughed at every anecdote and reason for their animosity toward Rachel. As they spoke, every person eventually expressed fondness and even love for the girl. And it wasn't manufactured because she'd been hurt. She was irritating and would always irritate them and they knew it but they hadn't known, until faced with losing her, they would never choose to be without her. Will knew, as he listened to his students, that Rachel would be surprised to know she meant so much more to them than her voice.

* * *

The next day, Quinn returned to school and, from moment one, everyone avoided her at one look.

Santana met her in the hallway and whispered, "Dial it down, Cap. You're looking a little cray-cray."

"Why? I'm only asserting myself."

"Yeah and your asserting yourself in school is like inserting a lawn sprinkler full of prussic acid into everyone's asses."

Quinn snickered, "You actually just said that."

"And I actually just meant that. You need to talk to your therapist about this shit. Didja know you have an emergency appointment today after school?"

"No."

"You do. I made it and yeah, cleared it with Frodo. Me and Britts will take hobbit play time until you get out."

Quinn looked around the crowded hall, gave Santana a smoldering look and lowered her voice, "Want me to kiss you now or in a bathroom stall later?"

Santana jerked back, waved a hand between them and hissed, "Hell no. Not when you're in this mood."

"Too tempting?" Quinn smiled. "I understand. Just wanted you to know who's boss—or who would be."

"Got that message from Coach but don't even. That hobbit's totes going to top you."

"Santana!"

"Don't bring it to the counter if you don'ts wants to buy it."

As they walked down the hall, Quinn simply said, "Thanks for taking care of me."

"_De nada, mi hermosa."_

**One Week Later**

RfR. That was the acronym for Quinn. Recovery for Rachel was just as exasperating and endearing as Quinn had thought it would be. But it was also a family project with a family she'd never had. They'd gone from the hospital to Rachel's home. Each afternoon she helped Rachel shower, handed over her gathered schoolwork and helped Eric, Jacob and Judy with dinner. Judy had come over every night in order that they could all have dinner together and had spent the weekend with them in the guest bedroom.

Brittany and Santana had been firm fixtures in the house as well and other Glee members had come by for very short visits. Even Lord Tubbington had come for a visit, took one look at Rachel and climbed onto her, stretched out and had fallen asleep. In ten minutes they were snoring together.

From Rachel's point of view, it was a little scary how different life could be when people loved or even just cared for you. Of course, her fathers had always loved her but now she had other people loving her and obviously meaning it. Every night, her Viking funeral sent her fear that it was all a cosmic joke on her and that it couldn't possibly be true out to sea. She found it disconsonant that the dark sea burning those thoughts away, extinguishing the fire of her anxiety and doubt, left her with light. And light-hearted.

* * *

On the night before Rachel was to return to school, she was both excited and anxious. Quinn was spending yet another night in her bed and the fact she was feeling better had led to better thoughts and then kissing and more kissing, until Quinn suddenly pulled away. "We can't."

"Can't what?"

"Do what we usually do."

Rachel kicked her foot in the bed, "Why not?"

"I can only be slightly and gently on top of you. But you can't be on top of me and we know that's how this usually works."

"Why? What are you talking about?"

"I asked."

"You _asked_?"

Quinn nodded.

"Asked what? Who?"

"I asked Dr. Mac."

Rachel stared at Quinn and waved her hand between them, "You asked him about _this_? About _us_ together like this?"

"Well, _yeah_. At the hospital. He's your doctor. Who else would I ask?"

"_Oy vey_."

"Sweetie," Quinn kissed her tenderly on the lips, "I want to be with you so badly right now I'm really barely able to keep my hands off you and I needed to know what would be safe for you—for us—and when."

Rachel thought about this, exhaled sharply, then lowered her brows and faux-frowned. Quinn kissed her nose.

"It's unfair when you do that, Quinn."

"I know. That's why I do it."

"Again."

Quinn grinned and complied. Twice.

"Fine. Tell me the verdict."

* * *

_The fact was, in what Quinn had begun to accept might be a long future of mortifying conversations, the one with the doctor had been right up there at the top. She'd approached him when Rachel was sleeping._

"_Dr. Mac?" _

"_Quinn, my dear?" _

"_May I speak privately with you?" _

"_Of course—shall we sit in the patients' garden? It's lovely." _

"_Thank you."_

_As they took their seats on a bench in an indoor garden space that was remarkably pretty and tranquil, Quinn said, "I didn't know this was here." _

_"Most people don't. I am always saying we should advertise it to our patients but I have the sneaking suspicion that hospital staff want it to themselves. It's nice to be here and peaceful when it's snowing outside or the like. What is your concern, lass? You look worried."_

_Quinn smoothed her dress then smiled back up at him. "Not so much worried but a little concerned and a lot embarrassed. I know you're great friends with Eric and Jacob and I would prefer this remain between us, because it's about Rachel's health but it's also very personal." _

_He nodded. "If it's nothing that will hurt her? As a doctor must tell a parent of a minor child? I won't say a word."_

"_Alright. I…don't know quite how to…"_

_Liam watched a furious blush suffuse Quinn's cheeks and ran his hand through his red hair, "Ah. I see. About sex and with Rachel." _

"_Yes." _

"_And what are you needing to know? Remembering I'm a doctor and you're asking me a medical question and should treat it that way. The Band-Aid comes off easier that way. Square your shoulders and ask." _

_And to her credit and his admiration, she took a deep breath and did. "As I've said, Dr. McNamara, Rachel and I are not fully sexual intimate. That's not to say that our kissing has not led to climax because it has." _

_His left eyebrow shot up at this and she said, "I _know_, but she's really…well—I suppose I need to know whether that's safe for her or when it might be again. Also, to be frank, I would like to know when we might take our relationship farther."_

_He chewed his bottom lip over this even as he watched something in the girl's body language change. Something in her face also changed, and he suddenly felt like a man speaking to more of an adult than he was when she said, very coolly, "I apologize for wording that poorly. Please understand I'm not asking for your permission or your opinion about whether Rachel and I should fully sexually consummate our relationship. That's our decision to make. I'm asking for your _medical_ opinion about when that might be _medically_ safe for her." _

_As he looked into her eyes, just as suddenly, her attitude was gone and she shrank from him. "I'm sorry, Dr. McNamara. When I'm defensive, I'm…well…I'm the daughter of my father, after all."_

_In all her icy bluster and overcompensation, he saw himself and bit the inside of his cheek, "You surely know you're nothing like your father."_

_She smiled at him but it was a sad and bitter smile, "You don't can't imagine what I've been. You really can't." _

"_I see. Fair do. And I could tell you tales and maybe someday I will. But I'll tell you what you need to know and it will be adult to adult with you. Very strictly medically speaking? Elevated heart rate will not hurt Rachel. She can climax without being medical compromised. But I'm thinking I might speak to you person to person?" _

_She nodded. _

_He looked out over the garden and grinned at it, "Times like these you need pigeons to feed. To pretend you're not saying something emotional. I know you know what I mean." _

"_Completely."_

_He didn't look at her. "When you lose someone you love to sheer sad mortality—and face the fact of it? You want that person back so badly that if you had him or her in your presence once more...it's…"_

_He rapped his knuckles on the bench, "You had your dear lover nearly mortally attacked. And you want to show her and feel with her the fact she's alive. And that's normal and beautiful. She can accept your love even now but for, I'd say, the next month as she rehabilitates, I would very gently do as you have been doing, except if she has been on top of you? Take that off the table. Take everything more off the table for a month. May I tell you why?"_

"_Please." _

"_Sex can be many and many a thing, my dear, but one of the things it always is until you get your sea-legs under you and even after? It's a performance, of sorts. Love? Duets? Take time and practice. Rachel won't be at her best and will have to be physically accommodated for at least a month. And you should discuss it but I would think, with the lass I know? It would be for her like taking the stage with a case of laryngitis. Her neck must be gently rehabilitated and her head should be coddled for a month. That means, if you two decide to go through with this sooner rather than later and I'm not saying you can't? She would surely needs be very nearly completely passive in your lovemaking, which means her being on her back. That might feel to her dear artistic soul not to mention what I suspect is her physical nature, like being an understudy." _

_Quinn bit her lower lip and then laughed, "I've never slept with her and I know she'd hate that." _

_He grinned at her, "I'll never sleep with her and I agree." _

"_Dammit." _

"_Dammit describes it. But Quinn?" _

"_Yes sir?"_

"_Saying dammit about having to wait for a Christmas that will certainly arrive is nothing, my dear. Christmas you'll never see again? And I know we both have them?"_

_She glanced at him and her pain was mirrored in his eyes. And so they both looked out at the small garden. _

"_Again? All this is missing, Quinn, is pigeons." _

"_That and pigeon crap." _

_He laughed, "And so we count our blessings." _

"_That we do."_

* * *

**Sorry again about the delay and more soon.**


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**In this very short chapter? Well…let's see…Faberry fight…Fabray nudity… a random NCIS reference that's completely a joke. Although Ziva and the world is sort of one of my OTPs.**

* * *

First back at school day. Rachel bounced out of bed at 6AM without her alarm clock, which was set at 6:30 for Quinn. She glanced longingly at her elliptical before meeting her fathers reading the paper in the kitchen, as was usual in this new abridgement of her routine.

"Good morning, daddy, dad."

Her face was markedly less swollen but was changing from the still slightly purple but incoming green phase of bruising that was still shocking to them every time they saw it. They both smiled at her and Jacob asked, "How are you feeling, honey? Excited to get back to school?"

Rachel crossed to the coffeepot, "Very! And I slept well but I'd describe myself as vexed, I suppose. I've been told I can't have sex for a month."

Eric looked at Jacob, put his hands up and pointed at him in a way that meant 'your ball.'

Jacob ventured quietly, "We weren't…hmmm…aware that you were sexually active, sweetheart."

"Oh, of course I'm not. But Quinn asked when we could be and we can't be for at least a month and, as you know, I don't enjoy being told I can't do something. For example, if there were coconut tofutti ice cream in the freezer and you told me under no circumstances could I have it for breakfast, that's exactly what I'd want for breakfast, although naturally I'd refrain because that would scarcely be a healthy way to start the day."

This was entirely too glib and also entirely Rachel, Eric thought, scrubbing his face with his hands and feeling a sense of horror mirrored in his husband's face as they listened to their daughter explain, in detail, what Quinn had shared about her discussion with Dr. McNamara. Eric felt his heart jump when Quinn joined them.

She was nearly sleepwalking as she always was before coffee but drowsily said, "Daddy, Dad." She kissed them on their cheeks and then kissed Rachel on the head before crossing to the coffeepot. "How's it going, sweetie?"

"Not so well. I'm sexually frustrated."

Quinn put her coffee cup back on the counter and turned back to the kitchen table, "Excuse me? Did you just say—no really? _What?"_

"I was just explaining what Dr. Mac told you about our capacity to have sex. Or rather our incapacity."

A long moment passed before Quinn said, "Right. Okay. I'm going to take a shower now."

"No breakfast?"

"Just lost my appetite, thanks, and beside that, I really think I should let you violate my privacy in privacy."

"I didn't—"

"Didn't what?" Quinn's voice was biting and bitter, "Let me clue you into something, Rachel. Our sexual privacy is _ours_. That means it's not just yours. It's _mine_, too. Good on all of you for being a sex-positive family but can you possibly understand what it took for _me _after the way _I_ grew up to ask Dr. McNamara a question about a sexual matter? Something I asked him in _confidence_ and told _you_ in confidence. Oh wait. Of course you can't. Eric? Jacob? I asked Dr. Mac a perfectly reasonable and responsible question in reference to Rachel's health. He was kind, completely age-appropriate and gave me his medical opinion. Evidently I can't trust Rachel with my personal sexual privacy but you can both trust the fact I won't be needing it any time soon. As I said, I'm going to take a shower—but I'll take it and my clothes in the guestroom." She glared at Rachel, "Enjoy your gossip, Mercedes, and I'll meet you at the door for the ride to school."

"Quinn—I didn't—"

Quinn's face and voice were cold, "Don't say a word, Rachel. And don't you dare follow me, either. I'm not just angry—I'm _furious_ with you but I respect you too much to speak until I cool off. Let's see if you can show me that same modicum of respect which I'm guessing will be hard since it's so easy for you to disrespect my privacy over breakfast with our parents."

Before she could leave the room, Rachel shouted, "QUINN!"

Quinn wheeled around and shouted right back, "RACHEL!"

"Are you breaking up with me?"

Quinn looked into Rachel's enormous, frightened and tearful eyes. Eric and Jacob were shocked by Quinn's cold anger although they entirely understood it even as they watched for her reaction.

Her hair was a sleep-disaster and she was dressed in her Team Berry sweatshirt and sleep shorts. But they both thought they'd never seen her look so beautiful as when, after obviously wrestling with herself internally, her shoulders fell in surrender and she said, "I swear to God, Rachel."

She semi-growled and pulled at her hair with both hands, "You're not only the biggest blabbermouth on the planet—you're on drugs. Of _course_ I'm not breaking up with you. I love you _and_ I'm beyond pissed off at you. At the same time. That _is_ possible, you know. Everything will be fine with us after we talk about a few little things you've apparently never heard of called boundaries, okay?"

Rachel nodded dutifully.

"And I'm sorry to inform you that, because it's me, we won't be using PowerPoint. Shower time—and I'm showering in our room since we're slightly made up now. But understand this, Rachel? I'm so embarrassed and furious about this that if I weren't in therapy? I can promise you fur and freshman would fly at William McKinley today. And you know better than anyone what I mean by that, don't you?"

"Yes, Quinn."

The answer was so lock step that Quinn said, "Please don't answer me like I'm a drill sergeant or the old HBIC and try not to look so scared."

"But I _am_ scared," Rachel whispered.

"Okay. Understood." Quinn took a deep breath. "This is my therapy speaking. I have to let you find your own safety with me. I have no power over it except through my appropriate behavior. I can't manufacture or manage it. Just know I love you completely. I'm doing my best to never hurt you maliciously again and I'll always remove myself from you when I'm feeling volatile. Got it? We'll talk. Even happy couples have problems they have to talk through—or so I hear. No worries."

She looked at Rachel's woeful face and couldn't help herself. She crossed back into the room and ran her hand through the girl's dark hair, "So. Blabbermouth. Again. How's the noggin?"

"It was okay when I woke up but now it's throbbing terribly."

Quinn grinned at her, "Do you think it's throbbing because you know you've been naughty and you hate knowing you're wrong?"

Rachel grinned back, leaned forward and rested her forehead on Quinn's chest. "I'm not sure. After all, I _have_ suffered a temporal skull fracture."

"Showoff," Quinn wrapped her arms around the girl, "Bet that doesn't hurt as much as knowing you're totally in the wrong, does it? I mean—just guessing here."

Rachel's head popped up, "You're a terrible girlfriend!"

"That I am. Shower time. I love you, Blabber," she smiled at Eric and Jacob, "and you too, guys. Sorry we had to duke it out in front of you but it's Rachel's stage and you know we're all just supporting players."

They nodded in agreement but as she left the room and walked up the stairs, she shouted back at them, "By the way? At the end of the play, the tiny ingenue is all mine. Oh shi—sorry! Was that a spoiler?"

Rachel instantly smiled a gratified and incandescent show smile and tried to focus it on her breakfast smoothie. Knowing her as they did, her fathers refused to laugh, although they wanted to.

* * *

After Quinn finished blow-drying her hair and walked out into the bedroom in her bathrobe, she was surprised to see that Rachel was sitting at the end of her bed in a plain red sweater and black skirt.

She smiled at the smaller girl, "I thought you were wearing Mr. Owl today, sweetie."

Rachel nodded mournfully, "I was but I don't deserve to wear him now because I hurt your feelings."

Quinn's mouth twitched at this, "You're punishing yourself by not wearing Mr. Owl?"

She nodded again, "I love Mr. Owl."

Quinn took a seat next to her. "Me too and I think you should wear him, if only as a visible metaphor. You might hit Rachel Berry and Mr. Owl but you can't keep 'em down."

Rachel smiled fondly and kissed Quinn's robed shoulder. "I'm sorry, Quinn. I'm really, really sorry."

"Thank you for saying that, angel, but do you really understand why I'm upset?"

"After you left the room, Daddy and Dad explained it to me. They said you were completely in the right and that I_ had _violated your privacy. Because, as Daddy said and I quote, 'there was a high degree of squick factor' in my telling them in any detail about our potential sexual involvement and a tremendously high degree of embarrassment factor for you as my potential sexual partner."

"Bingo. About as high as it gets."

"I don't want to make excuses for my behavior but after only a few minutes of thinking about it, I believe I can explain it."

Quinn took her hand, "I'm listening."

"I've…well…as you know, all of this is new to me. I've never really had anyone my own age to talk to about anything. Nobody to talk to except my fathers. The really embarrassing talks and shopping that getting my first bra and menstruation entailed still sort of fell under the parameter of parental stuff. But aside from the obvious physical and emotional safety topics regarding sex they've discussed with me, I now understand they don't want to hear the details of my sexuality any more than I want to hear about their sex life. I'm a young adult and they're my parents—not my friends."

Rachel bit her lower lip, then shrugged, "Except they've always had to or tried to fill in for the friends I never had. They've never, ever asked me not to speak and they've always stopped everything to listen to me because they've always known no one else would."

She stared at her foot as she scuffed it on her floor. "It's tremendously embarrassing for me to realize they suffered through listening to me babble what they really didn't want to hear this morning, when they knew the whole time I was doing the wrong thing telling them. I didn't give it any thought because I've always told them everything. I guess I just hadn't," she made air quotes, "gotten the memo that they don't need or want to know some things about me. And that doesn't mean they don't love me. It just means I'm growing up."

She sighed and picked at non-existent lint on her skirt.

"Anyway, that's all. I know I was wrong and I'm truly very sorry. I hope you can forgive me in time and I really want to talk about boundaries as you suggested so that I won't hurt you this way ever again."

Quinn lifted Rachel's hand and kissed it. "That's a deal. And you do have friends to talk to now, Rach. You have me. And if you can't talk _to_ me and need to talk _about _me, and I understand that? Talk to Santana or Brittany. You can completely trust them. Santana might elbow me in the sensibilities if you tell her too much but I'll kick her ass right back so that won't matter. And we all know Brittany's Yoda in a cheer uniform. Neither of them will ever hurt you. Ever. Okay?"

Rachel nodded.

"What's great about us, Frodo, is that you have nearly no boundaries and my boundaries are irrationally high so if we work on it together we'll get nearly a normal human being."

Rachel shoulder bumped her gently, "You think so?"

"Know so. As for forgiveness? Your apology is completely accepted. Don't get me wrong—I'm still embarrassed but the anger's gone. Not that my fingers won't itch passing freshman today but it's nothing I can't handle."

"Thank you Quinn."

"You're welcome, Rachel. And now I think we're at the kiss part of the kiss and make up part of the process."

"Happily!"

It wasn't at all the kiss Rachel thought it would be—something sweet and reconnecting. It was passionate and deep and the astonishment of that was nothing compared to when Quinn pulled her captive hand inside her robe and encouraged her to cup her naked breast, something they'd never done with each other. Rachel did not, however, at all disapprove of this. She moaned and deepened their kiss as she felt its soft full weight in her hand. After a few blissful moments of exploration, Quinn suddenly pulled entirely away and stood up.

"What's wrong? Did I do someth—did I hurt you?"

Quinn smiled down at her, "Of course you didn't, Rach. I just wanted to show you something. This morning at breakfast? You were feeling petulant, sweetheart, not sexually frustrated. _Now_? Now you're sexually frustrated. As my lefty would say, 'I always gets mines back.'"

Rachel stared at her and stamped her foot on the floor, "Quinn Fabray! That was _evil_."

"You deserve it and I think you'll live."

"Fine! I'm wearing Mr. Owl and I may even change into my skirt with the large bow in the front!"

"Fine!" Quinn beamed at her, "That'll teach me!"

Rachel glared at her for a moment and, suddenly, her face changed. She assumed her usual excellent seated posture and said silkily, "May I watch you dress?"

"Are you saying you want to see me naked, Rachel?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying. You've seen me naked. I believe it's only fair."

"You're right. Of course. This isn't my dream lighting for the big reveal but okay."

Quinn took her robe off and threw it on the bed. "This is me without clothes."

Rachel's eyes grew comically wide.

Quinn did a quick rotation in place, "As you can see, I'm not perfect like you. I'm thicker in my bottom half than you are. But I am what I am and I've had to accept no amount of healthy diet or exercise will ever change that."

Rachel immediately understood what teenaged boys felt when confronted with pictures of naked women, much less a real-life naked woman who completely short-circuited normal vocabulary. "You must be joking, Quinn. You're just…well…wow… you're…succulent."

Quinn barked out a short laugh. "_Succulent_?" She crossed her arms and tapped one bare foot on the floor, "I never know what's going to come out of that beautiful mouth of yours. Let's just say when I think succulent, Rachel, I think cactuses, technically cacti, or Honey-Baked hams. Which are you comparing me to?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Although your personality is certainly prickly occasionally, notably right now, I would never compare you to either a cactus or an unethical foodstuff. Come here."

"What?"

"Come here, Quinn."

Quinn approached the bed thinking, even stepping a few feet forward that seemed like miles, it was one thing to bluster but quite another to step naked into the personal space of the person you loved.

She gasped as Rachel put her hands on her naked hips and pulled her into the space she'd made by spreading her legs. Quinn felt heat shimmering between them as Rachel looked up at her. "I meant, Quinn, that you look, completely…"

Quinn grasped Rachel's shoulders to remain standing as the seated girl gave her stomach a hot, wet and open-mouthed kiss before looking up into her eyes and giving her stomach one lascivious lick, "mouth-watering."

Rachel looked up and didn't see what she'd hoped to create. There was more anxiety than desire in Quinn's eyes as she asked a question Rachel couldn't imagine the girl might have. "Really? You really think I'm pretty enough for _you_?"

Rachel wrapped her arms around the girl's waist and gently placed the injured side of her face on Quinn's stomach. "You're perfect."

"I'm not," Quinn began even as Rachel lifted her head and corrected, "Ah ah ah. No. Shh…if you can't accept my definition of perfect?"

Quinn looked down into Rachel's eyes and nodded for her to continue.

"Just accept that what you are is exactly what I want, imperfections included."

There was a long pause before a response, "I can work with that."

"Good." Rachel gave Quinn's stomach another quick kiss and smiled up at her. "Just so you know? The view from down here is phenomenal."

Quinn tousled her hair, "So you say, my little Min-Pin horn-dog. I need to get dressed and you need to make me some breakfast."

"I resent being likened to a Miniature Pinscher!"

"Please. At least Min-Pins are cute. I'm a fear-biting Bullmastiff and _you're _complaining?"

Rachel scowled up at her. "Don't think I don't know Min-Pins can be too energetic, yappy and irritating. I've met exactly one and we had a very dissatisfying interaction when I was trying to perform in its owners' private home. It shrieked as I sang and leapt continually from couch to chair to love seat. It was quite tedious to focus on my performance. What do you want to eat?"

Quinn bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, "How about eggs Benedict?"

Silence.

Quinn held up her hands. "Kidding. No Min-Pin, no eggs and no breakfast. But I do expect Mr. Owl."

Twenty minutes later, Mr. Owl it was but Quinn was amused to see Rachel had only changed into a skirt that was shorter. No bow. Pure sex. Good times.

* * *

Even Santana and Quinn had underestimated the sheer power of Brittany's force field when she chose to exert it, which she never had before. What it was that made her look so different they couldn't quantify but Quinn was gratified to see the hallways cleared as the girl escorted Rachel through them and as they never had even for her. It might have been the blank and completely unknowable potential for God knew what in her eyes. As Quinn watched her with Rachel at school, B didn't look like the puppy she knew—she looked like a damned Mossad agent or something. She thought about that odd Krav Maga reference Brittany had made in her house and shook her head. Ziva? No. That way lay madness.

* * *

**Sorry super short. The second half of this tomorrow. I only write because people review. Just sayin….and again, a total joke about Britts and Mossad.  
**


	52. Chapter 52

**A/N Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Sorry for the extended delay to this. Unfortunate and unavoidable. Thanks to all who continue to read and I always appreciate hearing from you. **

**In this chapter? Rachel's back at WMHS and a Faberry attempt at seduction goes somewhat …awkwardly. **

**The song in this chapter is (youtube) com/watch?v=sYi7uEvEEmk **

**Bill Withers' Lovely Day. If you don't know it, you should. It makes every day lovelier every time I hear it. **

* * *

Rachel sighed as she moved through the halls with Brittany at her side. Although she was used to being an object of malevolent attention, her purple-green face was now even more of a focus-puller. She noticed there were very few people in school who had any ability to successfully pretend they weren't ogling her injury. Clearly, they weren't meant for the stage.

She felt confident she was carrying off the air of studied indifference to their staring with the slight turn of her head featuring her good side that she'd practiced in the mirror fifteen minutes two times per day since her assault. She was, however, more fascinated by the effect Brittany was having on the student body. She didn't seem any different to the smaller girl but was getting a very different reaction from everyone else. She whispered as they walked, "What are you doing, Brittany? Why are people acting this way?"

Brittany shrugged and responded quietly, "I'm not doing anything, really. I'm just walking. But it's not like when Q and San walk around looking rad mean and everyone gets out of the way. I'm not even trying to look mean. It's just that I love you and I won't let anyone hurt you. Everybody can see if they tried to touch you, I wouldn't just give them a lime slushie locker-slam trip to the nurse's office. I'd put them in the hospital for real if I didn't just decide to pull their cards."

Rachel didn't stop walking but her eyes were saucers, "Well, I certainly hope neither of those events come to pass."

"They won't because people can see in my eyes they _so_ could. Q and San are totes smart about this stuff and they've taught me about it like forever. Everyone in school knows I'm so dumb that a lot of kids think I'm a little crazy. Irena's always told me to, 'Use everything you have to keep everyone but your dance partners and loved ones off-balance.' I have the power of I'm so dumb, I'm scary."

She kissed Rachel on the side of the head as they walked. "Remember what I told you Irena said about dancing, Rach? Quick, easy answer. Walking can be a physical expression of emotion, too. Just watch what my emotion is telling everybody."

As student after student cleared the halls for them, Rachel knew she could learn a lot about acting from a girl who both was and wasn't who she seemed and who could be just as formidable simply walking as she was dancing.

* * *

When Brittany delivered Rachel early to AP English for first period and before the teacher had arrived, the blonde girl gave the room a withering glare. Her voice wasn't Brittany deadpan; it was cold and hard even as she looked at Quinn and Santana. "She's yours for 50 minutes. Don't let anything happen."

Everyone sort of squirmed in their seats when Quinn and Santana only reacted to this by nodding respectfully. She snapped her fingers and looked around the room. She pointed at Rachel and shook a 'no' finger at the class before saying, "Don't even hit her with mean looks. I am _so_ not kidding."

Brittany beamed down at Rachel and her voice was her own again, "I'll see you when the bell rings, Rach. Don't leave until I'm with you. You're totally like a little football and they have to hand you off to me, okay?"

"I won't. Thank you Brittany."

After she left, Mercedes said, "Holy…_damn_, people. She needs to bottle that and call it Intim-the-eff-idation. Baby B's got game!"

"Who didn't know that?"

"What I believe Mercedes is saying, Santana, is that few of us have previously imagined Brittany as the Terminator."

Rachel grinned at the boy, "Oh my God, Kurt! You're right. I didn't put two and two together. This morning, she did say 'come with me if you want to live.'"

Mercedes cackled, "Rachel Berry shoots and scores! Put that fist out, girl!"

Rachel offered her fist and Mercedes very gently bumped it.

* * *

As Brittany walked Rachel to second period, Karofsky rounded the hallway corner and said, "Hi, Rachel." Brittany stepped forward but Rachel put a restraining hand on the girl. "Hello, David. Are you having a pleasant day?"

"I am. Better now I see you're back in school."

"Thank you for saying so and I would certainly chat but you need to get going to your math class."

"Math? How'd you know that?"

"I know the schedules of everyone who's habitually abused me. It would be a dereliction of loser duty not to take notice so that I can avoid what I can if I can. However, I'm glad we could trade pleasant words in the hall instead of corn syrup. It's really not that hard, is it?"

"It's not." He stared at her and looked so lost for words that she stepped forward and hugged him. "I'm glad I'm back in school, David."

She was very tiny in his arms and he chewed the inside of his cheek not to burst into tears. He gently patted her.

Brittany allowed this for a few seconds because Rachel had instigated it but then she said, "Rach is super nice and forgiving but I'm not. Step away from her now, Karofsky."

"Brittany, it's—"

"No, Rachel. Your head is broken and needs to get well. It's my job to keep people from touching you unless I totally trust them. That's not him. So hands off and step away now, Karofsky."

David stepped away from Rachel and nodded at her. "I understand Brittany's point. I'm glad she's protecting you and if you need a meathead to back you guys up, just let me know."

"David?"

They all turned to see Kurt had appeared behind them.

"Hi, Kurt."

"Everything's okay, isn't it." Kurt's soft, high voice was a command.

"Of course it is, K. I was just telling Rachel I'm glad to see her back in school."

David's face and voice were so pleasant that Kurt's posture relaxed. "Good. But I don't know about this calling me K business." He lowered his voice, "Because you might just be shortening my name to an initial but you also might be making a slightly amusing gay joke at my expense. Kay as a girl's name and Mary Kay come to mind."

David smiled, "I wouldn't do that—because I know you're not a girl and mostly because I bet your products are higher end than Mary Kay."

"They are that."

"Okay, wait. Rach? Are you seeing Karofsky and Kurt being nice to each other like I am?"

"Yes, Brittany."

"And Karofsky was just nice to you so—is this when everything turns out to be a dream like in a movie?" Her eyes suddenly widened, "Oh my God. Did I hit _my_ head and only dream someone hit yours?"

"No, sweetheart. Your head's fine. Let's go and we'll discuss it on the way to class."

* * *

Just before their semi-free independent Junior study period, Santana got a text on her cell, sighed as she read it and said, "Q? We're being summoned by Britts."

"Are they okay?"

"Uh huh. She'd 911 with a location if not. I think it's a surprise for you."

"What kind of surprise?"

"What about the two syllables in the word surprise mean I give you exposition?"

"What about the two syllables in 'fuck you' mean you don't?"

"Fine. Here's the message, bish. Tell me whatcha think." She handed Quinn the phone.

**Brittany Pierce: R sprs Q brg 2 btrm nxt chm lb 4 instd tm**

"What the...S? I love Brit Brit so much it hurts me sometimes but her text-speak sometimes just defies…"

"Description? Gravity? Yeah, I know. Sometimes I feel like just skipping the visual shit and running my fingers over the display because it's nearly Braille. Luckily enough, though, God gave her to me with a universal Britts translator so it means to meet them at the bathroom next to the chem lab during independent study and that tiny has a surprise for you."

"That gives me no idea whether to be pleased or alarmed."

"Why? You in trouble?"

"No, she is—sort of, which is worse."

They began the trek toward their destination and Santana brayed with laughter as Quinn explained only the father portion of her morning, which was now fair game as far as she was concerned.

"Okay, so that's priceless. Frodo power-slammed her morning smoothie complaining to her dads that she couldn't slam you before you even got your coffee?"

"Basically."

They walked for a few moments in relative silence as Santana composed herself because, as funny as it was, she knew Quinn down to the ground, which included the Ground Zero of her sexual anxiety. "That must have sucked, Q."

"Massively. But she couldn't really help it and I know that."

"Yeah. I feel you. She's like Britts. She can't text-speak real life sometimes."

After a few silent moments, Quinn said, "Okay, Heat Miser. I can feel the waves of you're proud of me doing better because of my therapy coming off you but if you actually say that, I'm throwing up."

Santana didn't even look at her, "Totally."

* * *

When they reached the bathroom in question, Brittany was standing outside. "Rach is in there by herself. She wants to talk to you and we'll stand guard."

Santa rolled her eyes and smirked, "She wants to _talk_. Wow, Q. I wonder if that's a euphemism?"

"No, San, because a euphemism's a baby tuba. If Rach had a baby tuba in there, I know she'd totally let me see it."

"A _euphonium_ is a baby tuba, Britts, and I think Frodo's loud enough without one. But I'm _so_ sure she just wants to talk. Get in there, hot-stuff, and we'll have the door."

Quinn yelped, then scowled, when Santana slapped her on the ass as she entered the bathroom.

"Rachel?"

"I'm in here, Quinn."

Quinn walked down the small row of stalls to the largest, handicapped-enabled stall and pulled open the door to find Rachel merely leaned against the far wall with her book-bag on the floor.

"Hi, you. What's going on?"

"To put it succinctly, this morning left me desperate to make out with you and I decided I really couldn't wait until after school."

Quinn took a long look at Rachel, crossed the space between them, took the girl into her arms and kissed her on the nose, "That's so sweet, angel, but you look really nervous. Is it because we're in a public place? San and Britts have the door."

"I know but it's just that…I want you to kiss me _and _put your hand under my sweater and blouse. I want you to touch me like I touched you."

"Really? Well, you'll never have to ask for that twice," Quinn murmured before she kissed Rachel and ran one hand under her blouse, trembling even as she felt the girl shiver as she touched the warm, soft skin of her stomach. She deepened the kiss and moved her hand up toward something she expected but didn't encounter. A bra.

She jerked away from their kiss, "What the fu—where's your _bra_?"

Rachel stared into Quinn's completely serious, angry eyes and her mouth dropped open.

"Rachel, I asked you a question. Answer it. Why aren't you wearing a bra?"

Rachel stamped her foot. "Honestly Quinn? _Honestly_? You thought_ I_ was bad this morning? Are you kidding me? I took my bra off five minutes ago so we could make out, you jealous morlock! But it's not exactly as if reasonable decency and my personal modesty absolutely _demand _a bra under this blouse and heavy sweater to rein in the movement of my enormous and pendulous knockers, is it?"

She stamped again. "No one at school would even _notice _I wasn't wearing a bra unless _she_ was graciously offered the opportunity to feel me up. Are you missing something vital about how small-busted I am?"

Quinn smacked her forehead as she exhaled sharply, "Oh sh…I'm so sorry."

"You should be and you know what? I really don't feel all that into this now."

"No, Rachel. Please. I'm so, so sorry. I'll write it down in my journal tonight. It was just a completely dysfunctional jealous thought brought on by a surprise encounter with naked boobage."

"Excuse me?" Rachel shook her head in disbelief. "Did you actually just use the phrase 'encounter with naked boobage?'"

Quinn stared in her own disbelief and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Jesus. That totally sounded like a nature show _again_, didn't it? Wandering under your sweater, I encountered the rare naked boobage. See? Yes, Rachel. It's what you do to me—total inanity and non-word usage." She raised a finger, "But be fair. You did say pendulous knockers so I was a little thrown off my game….what very, _very_ little I'm even…as I'm saying these words…beginning to understand I have."

When she saw the smaller girl was actually just smiling fondly at her rambling, Quinn sighed deeply and, "Will you marry me?" fell out of her mouth. She then looked so comically and utterly shocked at herself that Rachel fought the urge not to laugh or cry and decided to answer the question honestly.

"I believe, Quinn Fabray, that marriage is probably where our relationship is eventually headed if I develop some semblance of boundaries and you develop…oh…let's call it some loose semblance of sanity. But I am not getting engaged in a bathroom stall, thank you very much, and although I will allow you to kiss me again, you will keep your hands north rather than south because I won't lose my virginity in one either."

Quinn kissed her for a few heavenly minutes before again running her hand under Rachel's blouse and both of them smiled into their kiss as she gently explored Rachel's breasts for another few minutes before the girl giggled.

Quinn pulled away and smiled at the girl, "Am I tickling you?"

"No. I just had a rogue thought."

"Oh good. Or oh God. Tell me which."

Rachel wrinkled her brow at her before continuing, "Do you think the connotation of the word knockers is a reference to door knockers?"

Quinn looked down into Rachel's earnest eyes and saw yes, this was something she actually wanted to talk about at this exact moment. She sighed before removing her hand from its happy place and said, "Truthfully, I don't know the etymological connotation of that word when used referencing breasts."

"I don't either. I'll Google it."

"Good for you. Can we—"

The smaller girl wasn't finished, "What made me laugh was thinking about door knockers. My breasts are actually more like those free-standing round metal bells you tap on a store counter to get customer service."

Quinn blinked in sheer astonishment.

"However, although I will grant that fact, if you ever touch my nipples and say something like, 'ding ding,' I can promise I won't talk to you for a month."

Quinn knew she had to muster something to respond to that but it took her a few seconds before she said, "I SO promise I won't. I love you, Rach, but maybe it's time you put your bra on and we get out of here so Britts and San can stop frightening people outside. It's a little exhausting and I know because I've done it."

Rachel smiled a winning show-smile at Quinn as she whipped off her blouse and top and retrieved her bra from her book-bag. "I realize this was a slightly abortive public make-out session but I feel pleased with the ultimate outcome of our first attempt and we can only move onward and upward from here, right?"

Quinn smiled and nodded even as she thought, looking at her gorgeous half-naked girlfriend, 'Oh. Dear. God.'

For so many reasons.

* * *

As they all ambled down the hall, knowing they had a few minutes to kill, they couldn't have been less happy to run into Sue Sylvester. Brittany stepped in front of Rachel and Sue actually almost smiled, "Stand down, B, but I'm liking this new you. Reminds me of an agent I knew during my time in Siberia. He'd cut your throat with a shank of frozen whale blubber soon as look at you."

She acknowledged, "Q. S. Dwarfling."

Apropos of nothing, which the Cheerios were used to but Rachel struggled to keep up with, Sue said, "I have a device I use when I'm sleeping that makes exactly the perfect pitch and volume of white noise. That means it's perfectly irritating and perfectly soothing at the same time. Lets me sleep like a fat baby with a piece of cake half-masticated in its mouth without the whole choking to death part."

She stepped closer to Rachel and Brittany braced herself but allowed it. "Yentl, I didn't realize before you were banged up and absent that you have the perfect pitch of white noise for a high school. You're loud and tremendously annoying yet oddly and perfectly satisfying. I'd demand you find a replacement for you for me before you leave these hallowed halls if I didn't suspect you're one of a kind."

She actually patted Rachel's shoulder gently as she said, "This didn't happen," and with that she was gone.

They all stood speechless for a full minute before Santana said, "I'm so not believing Coach just basically no diss sorta almost French-kissed endless-loved the hobbit in front of us."

"It was odd, I'll admit, but perhaps it was merely a pleasant thing to say on my return to school, Santana."

Quinn shook her head, "Uh _no_, Rach. That was like Romeo and fucking Juliet. And I'd know—I've been living Macbeth with her for years."

"Totally," Brittany nodded, "But she's too old for you, Rach. It probs wouldn't work out and Q would totes hate it. She _is_ sort of hot, though."

"Britts?"

"What? She is, San. In a 'really crazy older woman in a track suit' sort of way."

"Lunch anyone?"

"Thank you, Rachel."

* * *

Brittany and Puck sat encasing Rachel as Santana and Quinn took their seats across from them. Puck kissed Rachel's cheek and said as he opened his lunch container, "For my Jew from my mom, "Bok choy, kale and spinach casserole. And even I'd admit it's wicked good."

"Thank you, Noah. It sounds delicious. I brought you vegan enchiladas and veggie chips with salsa. Even my daddy says they taste meaty and, as you know, he's the rebel in my household. Brittany, I brought chips for you, as well, both because I love you and it irritates Santana."

"Whatever, short-stack."

"What a clever answer."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Who's in charge again?"

"You bitch."

"Right, S. You two knock it off. Don't even start." She lifted a loaded fork from her lunch and said, "Here, San, taste the enchiladas. See what you think."

"You have enchiladas, too, Q?"

"I do, Britts. I'm living with Rach for the time being, remember?"

"Oh right. I wanna taste."

Puck held a forkful across the table, "Here, Brit Brit. I'll share a taste. Let Quinn feed your savage beast."

After Santana and Brittany took forkfuls from Quinn and Puck, they nodded vehemently as they chewed. "You can't tell me that's not meat in there, midge."

"I can and it's not, Santana. Again, beets are involved."

"Let's just not go there again."

"It _is_ super good Rach. I think even our _mami _would really like it and she's totally picky. But I have a question."

"Yes, Brittany?"

"What's bok choy? Because it sort of sounds like a martial art or something and a kale sounds like a weapon you'd use if you were a bok choy black belt."

Everyone at the table just looked at her.

"Okay. I might not be right. But, like, am I wrong?"

* * *

**Glee!**

When Rachel entered the choir room, she was surprised by a "Welcome Back Rachel!" banner. Brad alarmed her by leaping up from his piano to hug her.

Mr. Schue was uncharacteristically on time and as they all took their seats with Rachel front and center on the front row, he knelt before her and the room was silent as he spoke. "Rachel. I'm your teacher and I haven't always been at my best as your teacher. Because no one's always at their best except for you."

Everyone laughed, as she and he did, but he quickly followed with, "We laugh because it's almost true. You give everything every day and that's so unbelievable it's no wonder we people who occasionally take a slide through life resent you. It's not fair to you but you have to cut us mortals some slack. I just want to say, with all honesty, in my life I've had sad and bad times and all of you know what some of them have been. One of the worst days of my life was hearing you'd been hurt and having you back with us is honestly one of the happiest days of my life. I won't forget either day and I'll never forget you."

Tears fell from Rachel's eyes and she said, "Thank you, Mr. Schue. I think it says everything if I can't think of a thing to sing to you right now."

"Well, that's fine because Mercedes arranged something for you."

Mercedes stood and everyone in the club joined her in front of Rachel and just sat on the floor. "Girl, lots of us have known each other since we were in story-time in first grade. So this is for you, baby."

The band began the music and Rachel knew the song immediately. Her daddy loved and had sung it to her, badly, all his life.

Puck started…

_When I wake up in the morning, love_

_And the sunlight hurts my eyes_

_And something without warning, love_

_Bears heavy on my mind_

Finn put his arm over Puck's shoulder and joined him…

_Then I look at you_

_And the world's alright with me_

_Just one look at you_

_And I know it's gonna be_

_A lovely day_

And the whole club, including even the band and Brad sang the refrain.

_... lovely day, lovely day, lovely day ..._

Santana was next…

_When the day that lies ahead of me_

_Seems impossible to face_

_When someone else instead of me_ (she jerked a thumb at Quinn)

_Always seems to know the way_

Santana, Quinn and Brittany sang together…

_Then I look at you_

_And the world's alright with me_

_Just one look at you_

_And I know it's gonna be_

_A lovely day..._

Again, everyone sang the refrain…

_... lovely day, lovely day, lovely day ..._

Then, although tears were welling in her eyes, Rachel almost laughed because Kurt took the last verse, which was the showier one she would have taken…

_When the day that lies ahead of me_

_Seems impossible to face_

_When someone else instead of me_

_Always seems to know the way_

Rachel did laugh when Mercedes joined him…

_Then I look at you_

_And the world's alright with me_

_Just one look at you_

_And I know it's gonna be_

_A lovely day..._

There was a really show-stopping lengthy note that she waited for and pumped her fist through as everyone sang along with them.

When they'd finished, Rachel wiped her eyes as she leapt to her feet and clapped. "That was excellent! Thank you so much, Mercedes!"

"We love you, Rachel."

"Thank you, Noah." With the murmured affirmations of everyone in the room, Rachel nodded. "Thank you everyone."

Kurt jumped to his feet and said, "You'll be astonished, Rachel, to know that Finn has whipped out his not even remotely reasonable baking skills to make you a vegan cake!"

As Finn and everyone else stood, he said, "Not even I'm dumb enough to know that wasn't a diss, bro."

"It wasn't! I'm so proud of you! Brad?"

Brad brought out an enormous round cake with pink icing and put it on a cloth on the piano.

Rachel approached it and gazed over it. A pink cake with gold-flecked stars and a Welcome back Rachel! on it. "You really _made_ this, Finn?"

Finn shifted from foot to foot. "Well, yeah. I looked up the vegan recipe on Google and my mom watched and explained how to do stuff but I wanted to really bake it myself for you and I made icing the color I thought you'd like. But I did make Kurt ice it because I knew he'd do a better job."

Rachel looked down at the cake and thought of the countless, crazy times any tiny gesture on her former boyfriend's part would have meant the world to her. This was a huge gesture but she knew where her allegiance was.

"Quinn?"

"Yes, angel?"

"Take a picture of this magnificent cake Finn's baked for me. And of me and Finn! And Kurt."

They hugged and took their pictures as Deryk shouted from the usual anonymity of one side of the room. "Band punch incoming!"

The bassist, Allen, helped him bring a huge bowl of punch over as Jack, a trumpet player, quickly flapped out a card table to put it and paper cups on.

Jack looked at Brad and said, "Dude, brought the table because if someone put a cake and punch on my instrument just because it was a flat surface, I'd…well…"

Brad raised his first and said about the 35th word he'd ever said. "Pound."

Jack punched his fist with a slightly furious five and everyone looked a little chagrined because the cake _was_ on Brad's piano.

Deryk stepped back and said, "Sure you don't want to sing anything, Rach?"

"I am, Deryk, but thank you and the rest of the band for the punch. Please let's all enjoy our refreshments and then I look forward to seeing how you've all progressed in your performances for Regionals in my absence!"

This was so congenial and yet so entirely sounded like she was going to kick their asses if they hadn't been working that they all stared at her.

Mercedes was the first to laugh and hug her, but very, very gently, "Welcome back, captain."

* * *

**Next chapter? We'll be jumping forward in time. Regionals!**


	53. Chapter 53

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Sorry about the delay and this will be very short. I'm almost finished with the next chapter but wanted to get something out to you. A song-fic-y chapter, which you know I'm not such a fan of. It's part one of two Regionals' chapters and it picks up exactly where the last left off. **

**The songs I'm including here? For best effect? If you don't know them, listen to them before or as you're reading, **_**very**__** especially**_** Quinn's. This will be what's happening at Regionals. **

**As always, pretend there's something called you…tube:**

**Quinn: Norah Jones, You Humble Me: com/watch?v=scbn4mXADaQ**

**Tina and Mercedes: Chaka Khan, Through the Fire: com/watch?v=ymuWb8xtCsc**

**Everyone: Earth, Wind and Fire, Sing a Song: com/watch?v=HBpsOu8jyU8**

**After this chapter, we'll have a movie night and a real Regionals chapter. The next chapter after will include a major jump in Faberry and yes, I mean **_**that **_**major jump. And so we'll be close to the end. That said, we have epilogues, as I've noted. **

**This is a filler chapter in a sense but I'm not putting songs in the 'real' Regionals chapter because I want that chapter to have some narrative zing. Sorry. This is exposition.  
**

* * *

Everyone graciously tried the cake but with a little anxiety because it was both vegan and Finn had made it. They were a bit ashamed to find that it was delicious.

Puck spoke through an enormous mouthful, "Damn Finn, didn't know you had such mad gay-baking skillz."

Before Finn could reply, Kurt tilted his head. "Excuse you, Puck?"

Puck swigged some punch, swallowed his cake and shrugged, "Sorry, but c'mon. It's a pink vegan cake. I knew _you'd_ have mad gay-icing skillz but Finn surprised me." Even as he said this, he looked so very puckish that Kurt just rolled his eyes.

"Thass right. You know you love me, Kurt."

"You're not my type, Puck."

"I'm everybody's type."

"Not mine," Quinn offered.

"Said the mother of his child," Puck responded.

To everyone's surprise, Quinn merely half-snorted a laugh and said, "Right? Snap!"

As Puck smiled at Quinn, Rachel frowned and stamped her foot, "Alright. I demand to know what's going on."

Santana was feeding her last bite of cake to Brittany, "Whatcha mean, hobbs."

"You all seem strangely cohesive—my sixth sense is pinging. This cake is delicious, Finn, as is the punch but don't think you won't tell me what's gone on in my absence!"

* * *

When they'd finished and cleared away the refreshments, Mercedes intercepted Mr. Schue before he took his place in front of the class. "Excuse me, Mr. Schue, but Rachel was right. We _have_ been sort of meeting up after Glee and we have some stuff to show you."

Rachel glowered at Mercedes and the girl said, "Death-glare all you want. When you got hurt so bad, it made me think a little about how we've been acting, but especially how I've been acting. We know you did the best you could with that set list for Regionals and chose the best of what we brought to the table but we were lame as hell. That wasn't on you—it was on us. We got together and I made a few decisions everyone agreed on."

Rachel's mouth dropped open, "You staged a coup in my absence! Oh my God!" She stood up and backed away from Quinn, Santana and Brittany. "And you were all in on it!"

She was poised to march out and before Quinn could say a word, Santana said, "_Ay Dios mio_. Britts, grab her."

Brittany leapt up and gently lifted Rachel off the ground. The girl struggled a tiny bit because she was mad and to save her pride but she couldn't be feisty with Brittany.

Brittany sat down, placing and holding Rachel firmly sideways in her lap. "Shhh…you need to listen, not talk, Rach. Remember what me and San's _mami _always says, "You have two ears and one mouth for a reason."

Mr. Schuester had no idea what was going on and realizing he was completely at sea, kept his mouth shut.

Rachel slightly relaxed in Brittany's arms.

"Thanks, Baby B. So, Rachel, I decided we needed to get our swag on."

"And that means you're the soloist."

Mercedes waved her finger. "Not even. I cut Tina and she's banging out a duet with me. I changed up our ensemble number so everybody, but especially the guys, can get in on it. My only request was that we all act like we're just as good as you are—give it some of your 'don't rain on my parade' 'tude. We need to act like we own it to show you how proud we are of you and of ourselves."

"So who's the soloist?"

"Quinn."

"_Quinn_?"

"Quinn."

Rachel shook her head at the girl in the next seat, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Quinn shrugged, "It was a surprise, Rach. For everyone. Especially for you."

Mercedes stepped in, "I chose her because she's not a big show singer and that's what you said you wanted. I only asked her to choose a song that she thought she could sell and that would surprise the judges. None of us know what it is but we all decided to trust Quinn because," and she laughed, "she would break our damn heads if we didn't."

She winced as she realized what she'd just said, "Sorry. Not the best wording, I guess. Considering."

Rachel frowned but Santana was amused to see she'd already begun to gently swing her legs even as she tossed her arm over Brittany's shoulder, "So you've been practicing on the sly, I take it."

"Yep. We've done our duet and practiced the hell out of our ensemble."

Rachel looked around the room, "I did think it was strange that we had all of our brass band members here."

"Just let us entertain you, if we can. Can we, Quinn?"

Quinn stood with Puck. "I don't know how entertaining it'll be but I'll sing." She pulled lyric sheets out for everyone and they passed them out.

Puck sat next to Quinn and took up his guitar. She smiled very fondly at him as she took her hair out of her ponytail and tousled it. He began to play and she sang.

_Went out on a limb_

_Gone too far_

_Broke down at the side of the road_

_Stranded at the outskirts and sun's creepin' up_

_Baby's in the backseat_

_ Still fast asleep_

_Dreamin' of better days_

_I don't want to call you but you're all I have to turn to_

Puck stared at the floor as he played and his jaw was twitching with the tension he needed to remain as cool as his partner.

_What do you say_

_When it's all gone away?_

_Baby I didn't mean to hurt you_

_Truth spoke in whispers will tear you apart_

_No matter how hard you resist it_

_It never rains when you want it to_

_You humble me Lord_

_You humble me Lord_

_I'm on my knees empty_

_You humble me Lord_

_You humble me Lord_

_Please, please, please forgive me_

As soon as Quinn started singing, tears began to course down Santana's cheeks because it was one of her favorite songs. Quinn gazed at her hands, the floor and vaguely above her audience, looking and sounding as desolate and defeated as it was possible to be, seeming oddly so much older than sixteen.

Santana wiped her streaming eyes during the bridge but when Rachel reached to comfort her, Brittany held her in place and shook her head no as Quinn continued.

_Baby Teresa, she's got your eyes_

_I see you all the time_

_When she asks about her daddy_

_I never know what to say_

_Heard you kicked the bottle_

_And you helped build a church_

_You carry an honest wage_

_Is it true you have somebody keeping you company?_

_What do you say_

_When it's all gone away?_

_Baby I didn't meant to hurt you_

_Truth spoke in whispers will tear you apart_

_No matter how hard you resist it_

_It never rains when you want it to_

_You humble me Lord_

_You humble me Lord_

_I'm on my knees empty_

_You humble me Lord_

_You humble me Lord_

_So please, please forgive me_

_You humble me_

After he'd finished the last bars, Quinn kissed Puck on the cheek and he hugged her as Mercedes wiped tears from her face. She said to Rachel, who was wiping her own eyes and staring at her girlfriend, "I think we have a solo."

Rachel nodded, "Me too."

Brittany's admonishment about acknowledging Santana's emotion kept her from saying anything more to Quinn in front of the rest of the club. "Mr. Schue?"

Will wiped his eyes, "Yes. Absolutely. Amazing, Quinn."

It had been about the most low-key performance Rachel had ever seen but one of the most moving. She felt slightly shocked that someone who was not a superior vocalist could be so effective. As she looked around the room, everyone seemed slightly awed as Quinn took her seat and Rachel had a flash of understanding. Quinn hadn't been singing show tune or theatrical emotion—it had been crushing adult emotion truthfully expressed. Suddenly, Ms. Sokoll's insistence on the girl's taking theater classes made complete sense to her.

Quinn winked at Santana as she sat and then turned, "Rach, no sideways lap-dancing. You need to sit face forward on B for the next part."

"Thank you, Quinn. I will."

When Mercedes and Tina took the stage, Mercedes said, "Remember, Rachel, we're doing it full-on Berry style. We gonna own it. And nobody owns it like Chaka."

The band began the song and Tina started. There was no choreography; they both just swayed to the music:

_I look in your eyes and I can see_

_We've loved so dangerously_

_You're not trusting your heart to anyone_

_You tell me you're gonna play it smart_

_We're through before we start_

_But I believe that we've only just begun_

_When it's this good, there's no saying no_

_I want you so, I'm ready to go_

Mercedes joined her for the double and harmonic lines but allowed Tina the high spots.

_Through the fire_

_To the limit, to the wall_

_For a chance to be with you_

_I'd gladly risk it all_

_Through the fire_

_Through whatever, come what may_

_For a chance at loving you_

_I'd take it all the way_

_Right down to the wire_

_Even through the fire_

Mercedes took the next verse but, again, Tina sang along with her on the double and harmonic lines. Mercedes took the high notes through the rest of the song.

_I know you're afraid of what you feel_

_You still need time to heal_

_And I can help if you'll only let me try_

_You touch me and something in me knew _

_What I could have with you_

_Well I'm not ready to kiss that dream goodbye _

_When it's this sweet, there's no saying no_

_I need you so, I'm ready to go_

And as they smiled at each other, pointed at each other, they were obviously feeling as flawless as they sounded. It was a joyous exhibition of their talent and Rachel was thrilled watching it.

_Through the fire_

_To the limit, to the wall_

_For a chance to be with you_

_I'd gladly risk it all_

_Through the fire_

_Through whatever, come what may_

_For a chance at loving you_

_I'd take it all the way_

_Right down to the wire_

_Even through the fire_

They laughed and bumped each other's shoulders at the end of the short bridge. And then, as Mercedes hit the big notes, they both just looked so amused by how good they were that it was completely exhilarating because it looked so effortless.

_Through the test of time_

_Through the fire_

_To the limit, to the wall_

_For the chance to be with you_

_I'd gladly risk it all_

_Through the fire_

_Through whatever, come what may_

_For a chance at loving you_

_I'd take it all the way_

_Right down to the wire_

_Even through the fire_

_Through the fire, to the limit_

_Through the fire, through whatever_

_Through the fire, to the limit_

_Through the fire, through whatever_

Rachel leapt up as she clapped enthusiastically, "That was fantastic!" And forgot herself so entirely she said, "Everyone agree with me _now_!" That was not a request although the girl tried to defer to, "Mr. Schue?"

He stifled a laugh. Only Rachel. Everyone agree with me now? "Definitely. Perfect."

Santana and Quinn grinned at each other as Rachel clapped her hands again. "Wonderful! I can't wait to see the ensemble piece. Mercedes, you have done an exemplary job and I commend you wholeheartedly!"

Mercedes beamed at her and at Mr. Schue. "Thanks, girl. I really tried. Now, this next piece is badass. We have some Earth Wind and Fire and we've been practicing to beat hell. Britts and Mike have killed on the choreography for us and what they're doing's just sick. As you know, there are only two real verses but you get something in our guys' real range, then a falsetto range, then Kurt's range. First verse, Finn real range, Sam falsetto, Kurt up—and chorus. Second Artie real, Finn falsetto and Kurt up and chorus."

"Chorus? It's already perfect to split into high and low for all our voices. Oh, and the third verse we're giving to Santana because she talks out her ghetto-ass all the time and can scat like on the real song because nobody knows for real what the hell that man was singing."

Santana scowled at her, "Whatever. Sunlight's burning. Let's go people."

They took their places and, for once, the band looked as excited as the singers, which they should have. They sounded terrific as they started the iconic music.

_When you feel down and out _

_Sing a song, it'll make your day_

_Here's a time to shout _

_Sing a song, it'll make a way_

_Sometimes it's hard to care _

_Sing a song, it'll make your day_

_A smile so hard to bear_

_Sing a song, it'll make a way _

_Bring your heart to believing_

_Sing a song, it'll make your day_

_Life ain't about no retrieving_

_Sing a song, it'll make a way_

_Give yourself what you need_

_Sing a song, it'll make your day_

_Smile, smile smile and believe_

_Sing a song, it'll make a way_

_Singasong_

_Singasong_

_Singasong_

_Singasong_

The choreography was insane and did include during the bridge Brittany flipping over Mercedes and Mike flipping over Artie.

Santana topped the third verse with massive dance swagger and nobody could understand a damned thing she said, except for something like "_Ain't no shame to call your name_"…and it went on into the last chorus.

_Singasong_

_Singasong_

_Singasong_

_Singasong_

They played it out four extra bars for choreography. Everyone looked so relaxed and happy that it seemed, to Rachel and Mr. Schue, like an entirely different club, one united just to enjoy each other.

When the last note died, Rachel stood and clapped with wild enthusiasm. "That was stupendous! Deryk, Brad—you and the band were phenomenal. Thank you so much but our New Directions with those performances? The Regionals are completely ours! Nationals here we come! As my co-captain, Mercedes, I look forward to hearing your ideas!"

Mercedes' eyes popped wide, "I ain't no—wait a sec. Co-captain? Wha wha?"

Rachel beamed at her in delight, "Yes, obviously!"

Santana put an arm around Mercedes and whispered in her ear, "Evs it's juss like that for you, _sistah_. When _you_ wish upon a star, you get the biggest one in Lima."

Quinn twirled around, her cheer skirt lifting perfectly, kissed her finger and tapped it on Mercedes' cheek with a smirk even as Brittany shrugged and looked sheepish.

Everyone else in the room had the grace not to laugh as Mercedes faced a huge show smile from Rachel and replied only slightly under her breath, "Just damn."

Quinn reached into her backpack and grabbed a bunch of pink invitations with gold stars. "Surprise time, people. In honor of Rachel, Vinnie's Drive-In is closing down for us on Friday night. Mr. Schue, you and everybody in the club and the band is invited because he's going all out—free movie popcorn and soda for all of us and Vinnie does have a shotgun if you try to sneak liquor in, Puck. And yes, Artie, you'll be able to be there with us if you want—no problem."

She handed out the invitations as she said, "This is just for us but Rachel gets to invite whomever she wants. Rach?"

"What's the movie?"

"_The Princess Bride_. Is that okay?"

"Hell, yeah!" Puck said, and then as everyone looked at him, amended, "_What_? It's got romance and all that crap but it's still a badass guy's movie. Whatever. I don't care."

Quinn ignored him, "Rach?"

"That's wonderful. I want to invite everyone who took care of me or cared for me. I'd like for Dad and Daddy and your mom to come, Quinn. And Dr. Mac and and your dad, Kurt, and your mom, Finn. Ms. Sokoll and David."

Quinn shook her head. "Irena Sokoll? And Karofsky? _Seriously_?"

"She may have saved my life, Quinn. And David will behave himself."

Kurt spoke up, to nearly everyone's surprise, "David will be fine."

As Quinn shook her head in disbelief, Mercedes kissed her finger, tapped it on Quinn's cheek, winked at the girl and whispered, "See? Instant karma's gonna get you."

Quinn sighed and replied only slightly under her breath, "Just damn."

* * *

**A/N: There you go. Actually, although there IS a third verse for Sing a Song, there's no written third verse. I called my New York/Atlanta-based sound engineer/musician friend I've known since we were puppies and she laughed her ass off because she loves the song, too. She took a few minutes, called me back and had slowed it down for me and played it back on her speakers of audio doom over the phone. She said it was basically scat and the only intelligible part was what I wrote. I defer to my lezbro. Just sayin' I go to experts for you guys.**


	54. Chapter 54

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**The end of the Rachel/Mercedes drama-rama. Forever, in this story. Characters took this one over so I have another chapter to write for Regionals. And no, I'm **_**so**_** not happy about it, either.**

* * *

After practice was over and as everyone was filing out, Rachel said, "Mercedes, could I talk to you privately?"

Mercedes looked to Brittany, who looked to Rachel.

"She would never hurt me, Brittany. At least with her hands."

Brittany glared at Mercedes as she said, "Five minutes and we'll all be outside."

Santana pointed from herself to Quinn and back to Mercedes, "Know it or blow it."

When they were alone in the choir room, Rachel smiled, "And they think we're drama queens."

Mercedes smiled, "Right?"

Rachel walked around the piano and hit a few keys, "I just wanted to say I know I put you on the spot about the co-captaincy. It wasn't all that nice to do because what kind of person would you be if you said no to a poor gay-bashed girl in front of the whole club?"

Mercedes chuckled, "Yeah. That was a sorta bitch move."

"Granted. And I'll be happy to say I decided I like being the captain all by myself and confirm everything everyone thinks about me if you tell me why you wouldn't want to be the co-captain of our club."

Mercedes took a deep breath as Rachel took a seat on Brad's bench and hit a few more keys. "Be honest. It won't leave this room."

"Okay. Honestly, I don't want the responsibility."

"Good answer. It might surprise you to know I don't either but I'll take it if no one else will. I don't particularly care if you think it's only so I can get the solos."

"Fine. Plus being captain of the Glee club seals the deal as far as being a loser is concerned."

"True again but I've never had anywhere lower on the social totem pole to fall so no problem for me. Next."

The girl stalled and Rachel responded, "Okay. How about this instead—tell me what a Glee club captain should do."

"I guess…bring ideas to the club."

"Yes."

"Suggest ways to make club performances better."

"Yes."

Mercedes paused, "I know where this is going, Rachel."

"Really? Where is it going?"

"Yet again, you're better than I am and I'm a loser."

Rachel sighed and played a couple of chords before saying, "And here we go again. I don't think that and I'd happily give up my captaincy if you'd take it. Your song choices were wonderful—well, those and Quinn's—but I'd be happy if you were captain. If that didn't mean every solo were yours."

"Like you'd want it to be for you?"

"This is a _show_ choir, Mercedes. And I am a _show_ singer. You. Are. Not. Don't argue with that because your voice is tremendous but we both know what I'm talking about. In a vacuum of suggestions or help, what am I supposed to do as captain? For this competition, I decided to just pull the plug on diva or show for the solo and, guess what, I bet you that will get the judges' attention. But that kills me and you and Tina and Kurt as soloists, doesn't it?"

"Yes it does."

"You made great choices, Mercedes, and I couldn't be happier about your song with Tina and I'm over the moon for that group number. I liked your choosing Quinn as our soloist and not because she's my girlfriend. She can sing feelings we can't because we're all, to one degree or another, still little girls, Kurt included. Quinn's really not so much anymore. And just so you know, Santana's not a little girl either."

Mercedes lowered her eyes, "What do you want, Rachel?"

"To know if you're my co-captain or not. And to tell you that you don't have to be."

"You're not going to make this easy on me, are you?"

"Never."

"Okay. Co-captains but you can't diss my suggestions."

"Oh yes I can. You diss mine."

"But I—"

"No. You _always _do and I respect the competition but I reserve the right to reciprocate. I won't be walked on anymore, Mercedes, but I do know what it's like to think your voice is the only thing you have in this world. It's not the only thing either of us have."

"And isn't that easy for you to say? You think Ms. Perfect's in love with you."

Rachel slammed both hands down on the piano, creating a hideous non-chord, "_Think_? Well, we'll see, won't we?"

"Rachel—"

"No! I've said what I wanted to. You can feel free to fuck with me as you always have, thank you very much, but get personal with me about Quinn and I'm leaving."

"I know! I'm sorry!"

"About what? Very exactly about what?"

Mercedes just took a few breaths. "I don't even know at this point. Please. I'm tired of arguing."

"_You're_ tired? We're bickering, yet-a-fucking-gain, and about what? I wish to fuck you'd decide why you hate me so much and get over it—or not. You know what? Don't bother. I know exactly why you hate me. I also know you actually sort of love me as a sort-of friend. But if I wanted some endless moronic love/hate relationship, I'd still be dating Finn. And it's a little sad when I have to admit you're more exasperating and well-meaning yet exactly as relentlessly clueless as that boy, don't you think?"

This was so uncharacteristically profane, yet true, that Mercedes opened her mouth, then closed it. Rachel lazily played the opening notes of "Heart and Soul."

"My unsolicited advice? You need to find a way to prop up your artistic ego that doesn't involve undercutting _me _because I promise you I don't think of any of you _at all _when I'm planning what I'm singing next. Winners evaluate but don't fixate on their competition. Losers do. Just a word to the wise. I'm never discussing this again. It's over, forever. Think about it, co-captain. Or not. If you want me to be the captain, fine. Co-captain? I'm open to suggestions. You did a great job in my absence. You showed true leadership and I really appreciated the song you chose for the club to sing to me. If it means anything to you, I'm actually always very proud of you and I'm delighted you're a part of the club."

"But, again, this," she pointed between them, "whatever it is with us? It's over. I'll cut you for solos but I won't cut you personally. Please don't make it personal. I could easily ignore it but every person waiting in the hallway you're imagining doesn't actually love me might take it personally for me."

Mercedes was so stung that it took her a few seconds to say, "It's a deal. We're co-captains. And your opinion does mean a lot to me."

Rachel nodded. "Yours does to me as well. Leave now. I need to compose myself or my friends you don't think really _are_ my friends might fuck you up. And Mercedes?"

"Yeah?"

"It's not fun to know but I know you and Santana will get your Grammys before I do."

Mercedes chuckled, "Santana? Seriously?"

"Watch and see." She crossed to Mercedes and hugged her, "I'm serious. This is over. Now." She gently tapped the girl on the cheek, "Argue with me about songs but I'm finished with your ego and petty sniping. It's not my job to get smacked around in Glee because you don't agree with me or feel confident enough to compete with me. Look at my lovely purple-green face. Sometimes people _don't _agree with you, _don't_ think the sun shines out of your ass and will do anything they can to stop you. Deal with it. Grow up, Mercedes. I've had to and I have a few CAT scans and a head injury to prove it. I'm still here."

Mercedes looked at Rachel's discolored face for a long few moments and then only said, "Right." She grabbed her bag, but before she left, she pointed her finger, "I wouldn't have you hurt like that ever—not for anything in this world. You do know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"And I wasn't kidding with that song, you know." She sang, "Then I look at you…and the world's all right with me."

Rachel joined her, "Just one look at you and I know it's gonna be…"

They both took huge breaths and sang together, "A lovely day…"

The note went on and on and on and they smiled at each other even as they sang, knowing this would always be what they were to each other.

Friends, but that came second. Competition first.

* * *

Hearing this from the hall, Quinn said, "Typical."

"Completely, right? Makes you wish they had guns, not voices."

"Don't even—God forbid, S."

Brittany thought about that, crossed herself and said a quick five Hail Marys while she listened to the voices ringing through the closed choir room door.

* * *

After Mercedes left, Rachel took deep breaths as she slowly packed her book bag and met Quinn, Brittany and Santana in the hall.

"Nice to see Chocolate came out with all her limbs attached after your little sing-off."

Quinn was charmed, yet again, that Rachel went completely literal, "Yes. I beat her by about four bars. I could have gone perhaps eight to ten but there was no need to show off. I practice breathing exercises every day, limit my sugar and don't ingest dairy and she doesn't share those advantages. But it was a close call. She did a masterful job with her song choices and she _is_ really trying, Santana."

Santana was equally charmed. "Yeah. Trying. In both the verb and adjectival uses of that word, I'd imagine."

Rachel grinned at her, "Adjectival. You're so hot."

Santana winked, "Surface of the sun, baby."

"And it's almost like your girlfriends aren't right here, people."

"Sorry cap. Frodo couldn't help herself but I understand. I _am_ delicious."

Brittany nodded, "Totally."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "I always agree with you, Britts, about anything except fondue for Lord Tubbs but right now I'm pulling my big yellow _whatever _card on your girl."

"Whatever and out, capitan. Meetcha in the parking lot. Britts—you're on Rach duty—I'm going to powder my nose."

"San?"

"Britts?"

"That'll be super hard because you totally don't have any powder."

"And…you're so…_totally_ correct, as always. That was just a dumb way of saying I need to use the bathroom."

Brittany smacked her forehead, "Oh right. Isn't that like something you say from back when girls had to show decorum about stuff like that?"

All three of them blinked at her. Brittany was so very often and randomly, completely on top of things.

"Absolutely, baby."

"Cool. So go powder your nose and we'll be in the parking lot."

Once Santana had departed, Brittany took the opportunity to half-whisper to Quinn, "I have to do this now while she's gone. Eight pack."

"_What_? No way. Really?"

"Totally."

"That's just…_fuck_."

"It's not your fault—you've been taking care of Rach and—"

"What's an eight pack?"

Now Brittany blinked because she suddenly realized it was probably really dumb to think that Rachel wouldn't hear what she'd said because she was, hello, right there or that she wouldn't want to know what it meant. It was taking time for her to get used to knowing they were four now, not three.

Quinn glanced meaningfully at Brittany, who winced even as she explained, "Rach, you know we live in weights and measures in cheer, not only for aesthetic reasons but for physical reasons because stunt cheering is a really dangerous sport. When San's abs are eight instead of her regular six-pack that always means she's down to about 90-92 pounds. She drops weight so quickly you wouldn't believe it when she's under stress. Coach doesn't weigh her anymore because she's always under but me and B keep track of it."

"Oh my God! How could I not have seen this? She's wasting away!"

"No she's not. And you can't say anything to her. I'll handle it."

"But she must be sick!"

"She's not sick; she's stressed. She's really small and her metabolism's so quick and weird it can be a problem but she'll be fine. I'll deal with it."

"Why is she stressed?"

Brittany shrugged, "Maybe you think she can eat or sleep when someone she loves gets her head broken but she can't and maybe you think she doesn't get super worried and crazy hyper about it but she does. But if you tell her you know she'll be totally _loco_, Rach. _I_ can't even talk to her about it. Q always handles it and San always gets better."

"Exactly. Britts? You're with Rach tonight. I love you, Rachel, but S needs me, okay?"

Seeing the completely serious faces of her friends, Rachel said, "Okay."

**Quinn Fabray: 8-pack, Mami. S with me tonight. B with Rachel. Call Mama Pierce?**

A few seconds went by.

**Maria Lopez: Pierce yes, and you? Good. I saw this happening but waiting for our B to say. My hija is a burro. Feed her—I think a cactus or two would be good**

**Quinn Fabray: Or three? With picante, extra thorns? ****:)**

**Maria Lopez: It is official. I'll sit next to you in hell**

**Quinn Fabray: I always knew I loved you for a reason, Mami. You always save me a seat! **

She continued to text.

**Quinn Fabray: S underweight. Needs food and rest. Same as usual. Rach with B**

**Judy Fabray: Got it. Feed her and put her to bed**. **Won't knock but let me know if you need me**

**Quinn Fabray: Thanks, mommy**

When they got to the parking lot, Quinn said, "San?"

"Q?"

"New drill. Britts takes Rach home and you come with me."

"Why's that?"

"Eight-pack much?"

Santana pulled her ponytail free and ran her fingers rather violently through her hair. "Fuck you."

Quinn sang a lilting, "When you wish upon a star, you will get into my car…"

There was a very loaded silence before Brittany said, "I'm sorry, San, but I told Q because I was scared."

Quinn forced herself not to smile when Santana flopped for Brittany like a cheap paper plate under a load of hot gravy. "Baby, you were scared?"

"I was super worried. You're getting so tiny and only Q can help when you get like that. I'm sorry for telling."

"No, honey. Don't ever be sorry for taking care of me."

"I'm taking Rach home and Quinn will take you to her house. Okay?"

"Fine but I've only dropped a few pounds. I'm not an invalid."

"You've lost maybe 7% of your body weight in a week, bozo. Let me treat you to Casa Fabray. Something like a chocolate protein shake with ice, yogurt, bananas, then naptime. Our girls will chill at the Berry mansion. Already got it arranged with your parentals—Rachel can handle ours."

"I'm not lame enough to ask if I have a choice."

"Good. You don't."

"Didn't think so. Kiss Britts?"

"We're outside, San. Anyone can see us."

"And we care because?"

Brittany's smile was nearly luminous, "We don't care?"

"We don't. We're getting married and everyone on Earth knows we're gay for each other and I'm so sorry you're scared. I'll be fine."

Brittany took Santana in her arms, "I know that. Q will take care of you."

"She will. But you take care of me first, baby."

As they kissed in broad daylight in the parking lot of William McKinley High School, both Rachel and Quinn had to smile. And wanted to do the same thing. But not yet.

* * *

Karofsky ran down Kurt down in the parking lot before he'd gotten into his car.

Kurt felt his approach, wheeled around and put both hands out to stop what might be incoming, "David?"

The larger boy immediately realized he'd gotten too close in his enthusiasm, stepped away a few feet and said, "Sorry. Please. I'm sorry. Don't be scared. I just wanted to ask you something."

Kurt adjusted his posture from defense to offense. "Yes?"

"Rachel called me about the movie. I know a movie night'll be fun for Rachel and she did invite me even though everyone hates me but maybe that was just her trying to be nice so I don't know what I should do. Should I come?"

"Yes."

"Yes? That quick? That's your answer?"

"Yes."

"Yes? That doesn't give me anything, Kurt. I mean, that's not even a fortune cookie or Confucian, dude."

Kurt smiled, "I just knew you had a brain in there."

"Thanks. I guess." And then David looked at him in a way that Kurt felt both of them were completely unprepared for. "What's your favorite movie candy?"

"Candy?"

"Yeah, Kurt. I'm sure you've seen candy in the check-out aisle after shopping at Target, right?"

"I love Target!"

"Me too. But back to candy. It's like sugar overload in a package and you eat it during movies. Sound familiar?"

"I eat popcorn with extra butter during movies and do forty wind sprints the next day."

"Me too, except for the wind sprint part. But no candy. Wow. Seriously?"

Kurt looked around them as if he were divulging a highly sensitive state secret, then said quietly. "Fine. I'm not completely averse to admitting I have a desperate fondness for Sno-Caps."

David lowered his voice, "Sno-Caps it is, then. And you don't even have to sit next to me just because I'll be hitting you up with mad Sno-Cap action. I'll just sit in on the outskirts of 'Rachel's tossing another bully a bone-ville.'"

There was a long, long silence between them.

"You can sit next to me, David."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Of course you can."

"Cool. Sno-Caps it is and I'll bring a blanket because…" he walked backward as he pointed at Kurt and sang, "Baby, it's cold outside."

Kurt snapped to attention for a number of reasons, the first of which was, "You have a wonderful voice!"

David shrugged and winked before turning and walking away.

* * *

**Kurt Hummel: 911 Rachel. My main tormentor and your second might have a crush on me. Eff you see kay? I MIGHT reciprocate. Advice?**

**Rachel Berry: David? Him? Make him work for it. Needs to show he's real or no deal. I do actually trust him, however. But he's been my bully long before yours so we know each other very well**

**Rachel Berry: Don't trust him until/unless he shows you complete respect. We single ladies need to stick to our guns ****:)**** And you know I'm going to tease you privately about David at the movie, don't you?**

**Kurt Hummel: Yes. Already dying a little inside**

**Rachel Berry: Kidding. I've never seen the movie so I'll ignore you and be fighting with Quinn for popcorn**

**Kurt Hummel: You've never seen The Princess Bride? Where have you been?**

**Rachel Berry: Eternally friendless, remember?**

Long pause.

**Kurt Hummel: Our loss, believe me**

**Rachel Berry: I want to kiss you right now**

**Kurt Hummel: If I were otherly-oriented, I'd not only kiss you, I'd give you the full bizz—but you're out of luck**

**Rachel Berry: My loss, I'm sure. Speaking of loss, what do you think Quinn would do if she knew of our illicit affair?**

**Kurt Hummel: Tell her chemical castration works just fine—physical castration completely unnecessary**

**Rachel Berry: Ha! I SO have to delete this off-hand reference to your testicles**

**Kurt Hummel: Off-hand? Testicles? Did I just mention dying?**

**Rachel Berry: Is testicularity a word?**

**Kurt Hummel: Is crazy ass bitch three words?**

**Rachel Berry: I lurve you muchly. Is that teen vernacular?**

**Kurt Hummel: I love you too. Is that teen vernacular?**

**Rachel Berry: It should be**

**Kurt Hummel: Agreed**

**Rachel Berry: Agreed. And I won't make fun. You know me**

**Kurt Hummel: I do—which means don't help!**

**Rachel Berry: You completely take the joy out of my life**

**Kurt Hummel: With my talent?**

**Rachel Berry: Please**

**Kurt Hummel: Burn?**

**Rachel Berry: I wish my cell had Quinn's eyebrows. I'd be raising one**

**Kurt Hummel: Scary**

**Rachel Berry: Yes. But reformed bullies are hot**

**Kurt Hummel: Oh dear. That means this convo is over. Although I'm thinking. Do all bullies have hazel eyes?**

**Rachel Berry: Uh, no. See Santana Lopez, Exhibit S. But David and Quinn yes. They both have beautiful eyes. Who would know better than I? Before you go? M and T killed Chaka, didn't they?**

**Kurt Hummel: Totally. First degree murder—premeditated diva-slap**

**Rachel Berry: I'm proud of them**

**Kurt Hummel: Me too**

**Rachel Berry: Tomorrow, Sir Galahad**

Long pause.

**Kurt Hummel: Authurian legend has always meant a lot to me**

**Rachel Berry: Me too. I called you Galahad for a reason**

Long pause.

**Kurt Hummel: You never cease to amaze me**

**Rachel Berry: Game on! I'm going to call Noah and me and B and N will go sweater shopping now!**

**Kurt Hummel: Oh. My. God.**

**Rachel Berry: Kids R Us is still open! Bye!**

**Kurt Hummel: You are KIDDING, right?**

**Rachel Berry: Perhaps! A hippogriff may be in your future**

* * *

It was as natural as breathing for Santana and Quinn. Santana took a seat and Quinn brought out the blender, chocolate flavored protein powder, yogurt, ice and bananas.

"Study up, lefty, because it's bedtime soon."

Santana read history as Quinn pulverized an icy protein shake for her. She poured half in a glass and the other half in a cup, covered it and put it in the freezer. "Ice cream for later." She handed Santana her glass and stood behind her, wrapping an arm around the girl, "Let's get some history in."

They read together for the time it took Santana to drink her shake. Quinn took the glass, "Naptime."

Quinn changed into sweats and a t-shirt and gave Santana shorts and her Team Berry sweatshirt.

"Team Berry? Seriously?"

When Santana took her cheer uniform off, Quinn was saddened to see that her concern for Rachel had kept her from noticing what was right under her nose.

"Get in bed, simpleton."

Santana got into Quinn's bed and when Quinn joined her, she just frankly threw herself on top of the larger girl, "This sweatshirt smells like the midge."

"I know that. It's sopoforic, isn't it?"

"Which is counter-intuitive, when you think about it. Or her, actually."

"It is. And you're going to stop thinking—about anything and about her. You're going to rest with me."

Santana gripped Quinn's t-shirt and buried her face in the blonde's neck.

Quinn pulled Santana tighter to her and gently stroked the girl's back. "I know you've always had one lamb…and now you have another, right?"

Santana nodded.

"And your second lamb got hurt, didn't she?"

Santana nodded again.

"That's not your fault, San. You take such good care of both of them but you need to eat and you don't need to stay awake because you never have to. Not with me around. Who's in charge?"

"You, bitch," Santana whispered.

"Exactly. Sleep. I'm always watching. I'm sorry. It's weird for me too—to have another lamb. I fell down on the job with you and I'm sorry."

"Quinn, I—"

"No. Shhh. You can watch our girls but I will always watch you. Especially you. Go to sleep, S. I've got you. Our girls are safe and you know I'd step between you and anything in the world. Food and protein ice cream in a couple of hours. Rest now."

Santana fell almost instantly into a deep sleep and Quinn was amused, as she held her best friend, that snoring meant a lot to her at this point. She was just able to retrieve her phone from her bedside table.

**Quinn Fabray: S fed and sleeping. Tell B. But not snoring. I'm bereft**

**Rachel Berry: Will tell B. I don't snore**

**Quinn Fabray: Flipcam says otherwise**

**Rachel Berry: Quinn!**

**Quinn Fabray: But saving for Youtube when you're on Broadway. Better that way**

**Rachel Berry: If we'd ever had sex, you'd never have sex with me again**

**Quinn Fabray: I SO don't have a Flipcam, Rach**

**Rachel Berry: Whatever. Celibate now**

**Quinn Fabray: Until we win Regionals? Guess whose mom's going out of town for the weekend after?**

**Rachel Berry: Seriously? We are SO completely having sex**

**Quinn Fabray: It's like you're a mind reader**

**Rachel Berry: All kidding aside, is S okay?**

**Quinn Fabray: She'll be fine. Don't talk to her about it and B won't either. It's our gig**

**Rachel Berry: You guys have stuff you know about—I've never known anyone enough to have stuff**

**Quinn Fabray: You do now, Frodo**

Rachel thought about that. About Mercedes, Kurt, David and everyone in Glee, not to mention the blonde girl reading a book about an octopus on the bed beside her, Quinn on the phone with her and Santana sleeping beside _her._

**Rachel Berry: I'm a lucky girl**

**Quinn Fabray: Lucky us**

**Rachel Berry: Later? Love?**

**Quinn Fabray: Later. Love. Definitely love**

**Rachel Berry: Definitely**

**A/N More tomorrow if you want. **


	55. Chapter 55

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Sorry about the delay—I should never EVER say I will do something tomorrow. It's like THE OMEN. I had an unforeseen out-of-town trip and my computer is still the beast I love and keep running with the equivalent of IT duct tape and love. **

**As you know, I just make people up, so there you go. Deryk, the keyboard band guy, has no analogous human on the show.**

**I swear to God, I want it to move along as much as you lot do. Movie night. So Regionals next time. Geesh, this story's so effin' long. Sorry, folks. Thanks for putting up with it. And everyone hates long chapters because WTFE, evidently. But this is what I have.**

* * *

"I'm completely thrilled!" Rachel was wearing jeans and Mr. Owl. She had declared him a comrade in arms and who was Quinn to disagree?

The blonde girl smiled. No one could be thrilled like her girlfriend. Rachel's face was almost normal now. This thrilled Quinn as well because her girlfriend was A) okay and B) having what was not at all a real teen party but more like a little kid's party she'd never had, parents included. Quinn didn't care if Rachel didn't care and it nearly broke her heart to see how much Rachel didn't care.

* * *

It was a particularly poignant night for Deryk, as he changed his shirt for the fifth time. Sadly poignant because he had no delusions about any shirt he put on making any girl or guy for that matter and it wouldn't matter to him, suddenly into him. Sweetly poignant because he knew Rachel would be as excited as he was just to go. He'd gone to school with her a long time but, beside the band kids, she'd been the only kid who'd reached out to him in high school and definitely the only and prettiest girl. None of the band members had ever been invited to a party where cool kids would be.

He scrolled through his iPod on his docking station and brought up his dub mix of Rachel when she'd covered _Big Time Sensuality_ for him and punched it on. It didn't sound sensual—hell, it didn't sound sensual with Bjork singing it. It sounded happy and grounded and hopeful. He looked into his light blue eyes in the mirror, which he knew were pretty much his best feature because they were oddly juxtaposed against his jet-black hair. He smiled as he thought about it and decided happy, grounded and hopeful _were_ sensual. He nodded at himself and chose his shirt. His goddess Bjork was always right.

* * *

In the darkening evening, the guests all slowly converged. None of them would admit to any other of them that they were a little excited that the theater had been closed just for them and that they needed a special horn signal for Vinnie to let them in. Most of them, like most of Lima, were scared to death of Vinnie, who looked like a very large misplaced extra from a Scorsese movie. Complete with gun.

The band members immediately realized they'd made perhaps a lame and too punctually early entrance to the party but that was what you did because you were the band, right? They were not surprised, however, to see Rachel was already there, which explained Quinn, Santana and Brittany's early presence. It was strangely exhilarating for these last three to take notice of them and grab sodas with them and actually talk to them as Rachel reminded everyone of their names. They felt almost like they were people.

* * *

As the rest of the guests began to arrive shortly thereafter, they found Vinnie had cleared a huge space in the middle of the cinema, with scores of short low-slung lawn chairs for everyone to sit in.

Brittany leapt forward at the arrival of the Abrams van, opened the side door and jumped in. "Want a lift, Exo-Mine?"

Artie smiled at her. His dad had thought that, beside himself, Puck and Sam were the only people his son would unselfconsciously let help him but found he was wrong. "Sure thing."

She picked him up and stepped out of the van gracefully, "Just grab his chair, Mr. Abrams, and I'll watch out if he needs it or me. I know a transfer from a short lawn chair to his chair would be crazy. Puck's running late but Sam's here and I don't really need help."

"She doesn't. My exie is super strawng."

Brittany laughed and kissed his cheek.

And Mr. Abrams saw she was. The girl carried the son he struggled to pick up as simply as if he were only a paper cup. His son might be nothing to her weight-wise but was clearly something to her emotionally because she was incredibly gentle as she situated him in the small lawn chair, so gentle it made his eyes sting.

Finn's reaction was different. He watched this display of brute girl-strength with dismay. Carrying Rachel was one thing but Artie had to weigh 150 pounds. He'd always thought Brittany was borderline scary and maybe she'd been serious about that Israeli thing he couldn't remember the name of.

Eric just thought, _damn_. Sam reflexively felt his own arms and thought about adding another set or two of bicep curls.

Santana watched with mild jealousy that evaporated the second Brittany looked up at her and winked.

"Arthur! You should have brought Abby."

Arthur laughed, "Are you kidding me, Judy? These kids already have you. And hi Eric, Jake! Plus Shotgun Vinnie. Parents, including one very large bald one and a scary movie man. I think they're getting as chaperoned as they'll ever want to be."

"The hell of youth. I remember it well," Vinnie said as he roughly clapped Arthur on the shoulder, "Not as scary as I used to be in school, Abrams."

"Anyone with a shotgun is scary to an accountant, Vin. Ask me during tax season."

"Word."

"Mr. Berry, that almost sounded cool."

"Thank you, Mercedes. I occasionally try to channel my Jewish black man."

Mercedes said, "And just like that, the cool flames out."

Jacob stamped his foot in indignation and Mercedes burst into laughter. "Is that where Rach gets that from?"

Eric laughed, "Completely. Keep going and we'll have a storm out."

"Daddy! Don't pick on Dad. Mr. Abrams, you're welcome to stay."

Arthur laughed and said, "Thank you, Rachel, but no. Art's sister is having a sleepover away so it's date night at my house."

"I didn't need to know that, Dad. Ever."

"Me, either," Matt offered.

"Yeah, Mr. A. You're bringing full parental horror." Deryk said.

Arthur Abrams beamed with pride, having never been told he'd accomplished such a thing.

Rachel put a hand on Artie's shoulder. "I feel for you, Artie. Remember I'm a girl who was created on a date between two gay fathers and the IVF fairy."

"Ouch. Double down, Rach. And pound dawg." Artie knuckle bumped with Rachel.

"Later, Art."

"Thanks, Dad. Sort of!"

Brittany waved her goodbye and said, "I know you're kidding, Rach. San explained about the whole stork thing but you totally didn't get brought to your dads by the International Monetary Fund."

Santana's eyes popped wide as she stared at Rachel, who replied hesitantly, "You're…right. I'm sorry. Perhaps I didn't enunciate, which is unlike me. I didn't say I**M**F; I said I**V**F."

"Oh. In-_vitro_. That makes way more sense and is there really an IVF fairy? Because me and San will need her someday. Or maybe it's a him sort of like Kurt. No diss meant, Kurt. I mean, obvs, because I'm super gay too." She looked suddenly and utterly startled. "Wow. It's _so_ like I wasn't supposed to say any of that."

Santana just shook her head as Kurt responded, "No offense taken, Brittany. No worries. I promise we won't need first responders to deal with the shock your news caused because the cat's been out of the bag about you and Santana since you were about twelve. I'm actually more interested and nearly breathless for the answer. IVF fairy, Santana?"

Everyone looked at Santana, who glared at Kurt then turned to Quinn like a desperate deer in headlights. Quinn looked at the sky for help from God as she ran her hands through her hair. Yes. These were actually her best friends.

She wasn't the HBIC for nothing. She sounded firm and conclusive in her report of her IVF fairy findings, "There are many boy and girl IVF fairies, Britts, and I promise we'll talk about them with San and Rach later if you want. But right now I think we need to get this party started, people."

"That's right! I knew you could feel I was in da house!"

Everyone turned and saw two figures approaching.

"Vinnie actually let you in, Puckerman? Where are his standards?"

"I hit the entrance at the same time as my man Dr. Mac, so I lucked out. He brought the adult beverages. For the adults, people. I didn't bother to try. We're _no me gusta _except for soda and snacks. But first," he swept over to Rachel and gently picked her up, holding her almost like a toddler in his arms, "How's my finest Jew on this fine Friday night?"

She smiled and ran her hands over his soft strip of dark hair, "I'm excellent, Noah! I'm very excited to see you and everyone and the movie."

"Good to hear it but now I have to put you down before Quinn murders me with her eye sabers of death."

Quinn smiled as Rachel kissed Puck on the cheek as he gently put her back on the ground. "That was only half a joke. I _can_ actually cause hit point damage with my eyes."

Quinn was mildly chagrined that everyone nodded and vocally agreed. Santana said, "Nerd alert, capitan. Next reference to D&D gets you a toaster oven. Oh wait, you already got one, didn't you?"

Rachel hugged Dr. Mac. "Ignore them. I do. I'm glad you could come."

"I wouldn't be elsewhere. Seeing you happy makes me feel like serenading you with _When Irish Eyes are Smiling_."

"That's very kind but hearing your singing voice might set my recovery back a week."

"See how you treat me! I ask you, what's harder? Brain surgery or singing?"

"That's super easy, Dr. Mac. Singing if you can't. Brain surgery if you can."

He stared at her, "That's an astonishing answer, Brittany. And it's completely true."

Judy smiled, "Brittany's always right."

Because all eyes were again on her and she knew she'd messed up talking too much before but not now _maybe_, Brittany felt overwhelmed to the point of blankness. Mike saw it, just as all of her closest friends did, but he was the fastest to react and ran the short few yards toward her, shouting, "Incoming!" and jumped on Brittany's back, "Let's go! Powers, super, super powers!"

Brittany giggled, then galloped around piggy-backing Mike as they shout-sang The Apples in Stereo Powerpuff Girls song, which was incredibly surreal for nearly all the people watching, who wondered what had possessed them and especially him. They'd never seen him be anything but deferential and quietly pleasant with Brittany, even when working on dance numbers.

Santana had. And one other person, who'd just arrived.

"I come to see a movie, not insanity! Put him down, malyshka!"

Brittany immediately stopped and Mike jumped down.

Silence fell. Irena Sokoll hadn't been on the stage in years but still had ferocious stage presence.

Brittany was used to that and was only thinking that she was in trouble again and it was weird because that was three times now and San hated stuff happening three times and this was only a movie so what was that about? And she'd never seen Irena in skinny jeans and she thought she looked really hot for a person who could be her grandmother even though she was about the tiniest woman ever, maybe. But she only said, "Oh. Hi. Sorry, Irena."

"Pfft. You never need say that to me, Brittany. Hello, everyone."

This was clearly perfunctory because she turned to, "Michael, you may do this sporting about in our studio but not—" she threw her hands in the air in disbelief, "I walk in and see what? A woman running and carrying a weight heavier than her own over uneven, unknown ground with dark lighting. It is unlucky—you do not do such things unless it is for life or death. I know you don't respect dancing as the bread in your mouth and I pray you never should but this is dangerous."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Sokoll."

"Again. Do not say so, Michael. You are both children I dearly love and I understand wanting to play because you are so capable. The rest of the people here are welcome to run and sprain themselves or give themselves injuries that will plague them a lifetime. But you? No. Not two people who will be professional dancers and have feet and ankles and knees I have trained for so long."

She clapped her hands twice, as they'd so often heard. "On even ground with adequate lighting? Trust yourselves completely and have your fun. It is good to be bold and you need never fear when you're sure of your footing. This is true of everything in life but you cannot choose your footing always. I will tell you and it is true? If you can, you must. Never play dice with fate because fate can be a merciless bitch with dancers. One slip and a dancing life is over."

She turned, "Not so with singers. Speaking of a fate that clearly loves you and with good reason, little one. How are you?"

Rachel saw that Brittany and Mike were merely chastened and not dispirited in the least so she hugged her, "I feel great, Ms. Sokoll!"

"You look it. I'm thankful you invited me. I promise to keep my mouth shut from here on and enjoy you all as long as things remain civilized. Except to ask Brittany, is this song you and Michael were singing on my iPod?"

"It's from the Powerpuffs Girls soundtrack, Irena. San loaded Frank Black's song, but not this one."

"Santana, you will rectify this."

"Will do. The whole soundtrack rocks."

Whatever this was—was weird for everyone gathered. They knew Irena Sokoll had helped during Rachel's assault but nearly everyone in the gathering hadn't met the woman and most who had were still slightly scared of her. She had always been person of fear-filled interest in Lima and that she, Brittany, Mike and Santana seemed to be friends was frankly stunning to most of them.

Tina shook her head and spoke quietly to Mercedes, "I've been crossing the street in Lima for years not to run into Scary Sokoll and Mike _knows_ her? He's _so_ answering some questions tonight after this movie. And he not only knows Scary, he sings Powerpuff songs riding on Brittany's back when he barely speaks to her at school. Brittany knows what's on Scary's iPod and Santana _helps_ with Scary's iPod. Is that a fair rundown of what I just saw? I could do a total buy-in for Scary being a witch or a demon and Santana being her familiar but not B or Mike."

Mercedes laughed in delight. "Testify! You're just wrong to say that familiar thing even though you're so right. I don't think you missed anything and all of it just added up to one big fat _the hell_? For the record, Scary Sokoll has always scared me, too."

Kurt was listening in and quickly said, very quietly, "Curb your enthusiasm and lower your voices or we'll all be wearing what you're throwing later. I've always been alarmed by Ms. Sokoll, as well, but she's a world class prima ballerina. They're divas too, ladies, and with better reason. When you add to that she's Russian and has always looked like she might and could beat you, which we've found from Rachel's misfortune is thankfully true…ooh…look who's here. Mr. Schue and Ms. Pils. Pretending it's not a match made in I don't know where."

"I know. Rubber gloves and hair products. Aisle five?"

"Me-OW, Mercedes."

Will was carrying two chairs and a bag but nodded as he said, "Hi guys! Thanks for inviting me. I hope you don't mind I brought a plus one."

Rachel shook her head although she feared the worst about ingesting movie snacks on an open field of gravel and grass, which meant dirt as well. "Not a bit. Good to see you, Ms. Pilsbury. I hope you both enjoy the movie and the refreshments."

"Oh thank you, Rachel," Emma said, "But we brought our own—refreshments, that is. Not the movie. Of course."

Rachel nodded vigorously, vastly relieved. "Then everyone's set!"

"Rachel, sweetheart. Come here please."

She presented herself to "Quinn?"

Quinn lowered her voice, "Relax, honey. I'll handle this. This is supposed to be fun. Just have fun."

Rachel leaned in to whisper, "I'm tremendously anxious. All of these people are being nice to come to this event and I don't want to be a bad hostess."

"I know you're anxious, sweetie, and I appreciate your introducing everybody and keeping things nice. That's your job—having fun and mingling and remembering they're here because they love and like you. The mechanical particulars otherwise are mine and Vinnie's. _I'm_ the hostess at this party for you." She kissed her on the cheek. "Relax and enjoy yourself."

She then raised her voice, "Attention please?" All of the adults were surprised at how instantly the din of teenagers' talking fell silent. Quinn had a not so much stage presence as a fear presence of her own. "If I can get a few volunteers, we can help Vinnie with the popcorn. Then we'll get our movie going and we can all socialize afterward."

Eric, Jacob and Judy stepped forward but Quinn waved them off as she leaned forward and said quietly, "Absolutely not. You guys have fun with Rach and her guests. I've got this. It's good to be the queen."

She stepped away and raised her voice again, "Deryk, you're with me." He sprang forward. He knew the deal. She wasn't into him but he must have chosen the right shirt. "You, Mercedes and you, Tina. You need something to do because I hear some buzzing. _Not_ you Kurt. I hear your buzz too but it's fine. Got that, gossip queens? Because I do. And I need Finn, Sam and Matt. Let's go."

Mercedes and Tina looked at each other and Tina whispered, "_Fuck_, she's scary. She couldn't _possibly _have heard us."

Kurt nodded, "I told you! Get going, starlets."

As everyone Quinn had called filed after her, Santana had to laugh even as she called out, "You know it's not, technically speaking, volunteering if you order people around, right, cap?"

"I don't technically care and never have, have I? Who's in charge?"

Santana pointed at her with both index fingers, winked and Quinn snapped her fingers and pointed back at her. "That's what I thought, lefty. C'mon people. Popcorn's waiting."

Puck didn't turn to Santana but whispered, "She's so badass."

"Yeah. A thing of beauty." She didn't turn to him either, just whispered almost sadly. "She really is, actually. And I don't mean her face or her body, dog."

Puck nodded and let this go and it wasn't only because he agreed. The times Santana was real with him were rare and he'd learned to just shut up and let her be when she was and not be dumb or try to score off her even if she would do it to him in a heartbeat.

* * *

As they walked away, Jacob said to Judy, "Excuse me for saying this, but that's an alpha female."

"She is that. Russell was a beta male who wished he were an alpha. That was probably what rankled him about her. And you have your own little alpha."

"We do. And now you do, too. Two for two."

They watched Eric and Rachel, who were talking to Artie yards away from them.

"Jacob, can I tell you something and you can share it with Eric but no one else?"

"Of course."

"I wanted to tell you I love Rachel. She's adorable. Quinn is my child but I see she's different and difficult. She knows that, too, and she's not adorable. She's only lovable to those few people she allows to really see her. She was as cool and distant with people from the minute she was born as she is now. I was always overly awed by her and Russell was overly proud in a 'I made this' way. I can easily appreciate how both of those attitudes must have hurt her. But look at all the focused effort she puts into creating what people think of her."

She looked fondly at Rachel, who was speaking as animatedly as a three-year-old on a candy binge. "You haven't made the same mistakes we did with Rachel but I watch your daughter doing the same things. Quinn only tolerates controlled attention and Rachel needs all the attention. Did you know that Quinn despises looking into mirrors? Always has. I know Rachel loves it. Sides of a coin. That won't change but surely it must be exhausting sometimes and surely sometimes you'd want to just relax with someone who really understood you. I guess my point is that seeing Rachel and Quinn together makes me think they're going to have happy lives and I've always been worried Quinn wouldn't. I'm sure you and Eric have worried that Rachel might have fame and money but would never find someone. I watch them together and they understand each other better than people who aren't like them can. I know they've only been together a short time and they're so young but they've known each other better than we know them for a long, long time. Just remember in a few years, when we watch them get married, that tonight I bet you a thousand dollars they would."

"Married! Really?"

"Absolutely. Is it a bet?"

"Oh my goodness! Bet against joy like that? Never! And you're a _mother_! You _know _things! I can't wait to tell Eric! He won't know what to do with me and he'll have to give me my inhaler but I won't tell anyone else! Mazel Tov!"

Judy smiled as he rushed off. She loved Berrys.

* * *

Puck and Santana spent a few moments silently watching Will opening his large bag and Emma reaching into it, "San, don't you just know she's going to put a plastic barrier on the ground…and yeah…oh yeah…there it is. Serious up. You think if they're fucking, Mr. Schue's in a plastic bag?"

She whispered, "Brawny-brand black outdoor drawstring bag or, if it's love, she might have sprung for the hazmat suit."

"Evil."

"You love it."

"I do. But I love Britts more."

"I know that. As long as it's a paws-off kinda love, you'll continue to breathe."

"You're almost as badass as Quinn."

"No lie there, Noah."

Long silence.

"You called me Noah."

"Ignore it. I've been hanging out with a midget."

"She's rubbing off on you. That's sorta sweet."

"Don't make me punch you, bitch. In fact, you know what? That punches one of _my_ buttons, okay? Lemme tell ya why. Last year, I was putting out a hummingbird feeder for B so she could watch them flap around and be all cute and eat and shit. Our Mami informed me, in front of Britts, that I couldn't substitute Splenda for the sugar when I mixed the food. She said I wasn't going to be doing any favors to birds with the metabolism of, holla, _hummingbirds_ by feeding them no-calorie Splenda. And she sorta made it totally sound like I was intentionally maybe pranking those dumbass birds when I wasn't! It just didn't even occur to me. Britts cut me off for two weeks. See? I don't do sweet."

She looked so aggrieved that Puck wanted to laugh. But only smiled as he rolled his eyes and kissed the side of her head.

She allowed it but said, "Whatever. Fuck you."

"Not anymore."

"Got that right."

He smiled more broadly.

"Puck?"

"Yeah?"

"I might moderately love you, asshole."

"Right back atcha."

"And if me and Britts are ever having babies, you're the IVF fairy."

"WHAT?"

* * *

At that moment, the last guest arrived. Everyone sort of stiffened at his appearance, except for Rachel, who rushed forward to hug him. "David!"

"Hi, shorty. I brought everybody candy but I got you some vegan candy."

"Terrific! I have to introduce you to my parents!"

David felt like his lungs were collapsing a little as he faced them.

"Daddy, Dad? This is my friend David."

They didn't miss the reaction of the assembled students and knew what he'd done to their daughter. They looked at him pretty much as he deserved. Rachel flinched a little but spoke, "David is my guest, everyone, and I want him here. And so he's going to hold out his hand and my parents will both shake it and Daddy, you won't do the bone-crusher thing you did with Finn, Jesse and Noah when you met them."

"Yeah, that was killer, Mr. Berry. I couldn't throw a football right for a week."

They shook hands. "Good. Now we're going to watch our movie."

David looked over the lawn, feeling sweat running down his back and saw Kurt sitting in his chair next to Mercedes and an empty chair on the other side. The boy pointed at it and David grinned.

"Thanks, Kurt."

"You're welcome and Mercedes will keep her mouth shut because I told her that we're trying here."

"Got it." David sat down and reached into his letterman's jacket, pulled out a huge box of Sno-Caps and handed it to Kurt. "I thought you might not want to fight anyone for them. I don't." He reached into his large gym bag and brought out a thermal bag, unzipped it and presented Mercedes with a little basket that produced a squeal. "Oh hell no. You brought me _tots_?"

"I think tots should be movie food, too. I have little ketchup packages and napkins."

"Hand 'em over. We'll keep this one, Kurt, if he keeps coming correct with the tot action." And she laughed at herself even as she said, "Thanks, David. That was really nice of you."

"No problem. I'm trying."

Kurt smiled at the starry sky. "Yes, thank you, David. As you see, there's a massive tub of popcorn here with extra butter and usually Mercedes and I would fight over it and she'll still want some but thanks for keeping her occupied for the moment while I forage through it."

They both reached into the bucket at the same time and Kurt very quickly squeezed David's fingers. David smiled at the starry sky.

* * *

Everything was ready and Vinnie was about to start the movie from his projection booth when he heard, "Mr. Vinnie?"

"Call me Vinnie, Rachel."

"Vinnie, where are Sal and Mineo?"

"In their kennels. Not everybody likes big dogs slopping around."

"But I do and it's my party."

Vinnie smiled at the tiny earnest girl in front of him. "I'll bring them out after the movie but Quinn said to leave them in because she wants you hugging her instead of them during the movie."

Rachel blushed even as she beamed at him, "She said that? Really?"

"Really. And you'll find there's a little loveseat lawnchair for you two in a prime location."

"That's very nice of you, Vinnie."

"It's Quinn. She wanted you to have fun and I can see your buddies are having fun."

"It's terrific. I know this costs you money to close your theater so thank you."

He shrugged, "You're welcome but Judy's family's mine so no problem. And Rachel?"

"Yes?"

"I'm very sorry you were hurt but you'll never be hurt by that man again."

Vinnie's brown eyes were suddenly a little frightening to Rachel.

"Uh. Well. Thank you? And I know the authorities will deal with it. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

He continued his work to prep the movie showing, "I'm not talking about hurting anyone. I'm talking about it never happening, Rachel. People only need talking to. I always only talk. People always listen. I know you're going to New York—all of you. If anyone ever, ever, ever causes any one of you problems, call me. I promise I'll always talk first and they'll always listen. I promise you."

He turned from his task and smiled at her. "Since I moved to Lima when I was thirteen, I've never said this to anyone in this world because I shouldn't but for some reason I trust you. My name is Vincent Giacopelli but it's not. I'm a different person. But you've always been on the run in a way, too. I see it. I'm in Lima because my father chose to walk away from New York to save me when I was thirteen and he talked when he was ordered not to. He wanted talking for me instead of other stuff, if you get me. Other stuff's what people do where he came from."

He rolled away from his projection station.

"Quinn's a lot like my old man in a way. He didn't _want_ to do things but he _would_, if you understand. Choosing not to? Choices that hurt? He kept good people around him. It's hard for some people to be good even if they really wanna be. I like people like that. That's why I love Quinn. I don't think you'll need me but call. Even if it's just to bark at the dogs over the phone."

Rachel just stood there for a few moments. "I will, Vinnie. I know I never heard this—to anyone, ever."

"Yeah. Thanks. I knew that about you. Enjoy the movie."

"Is it good?"

"You'll love it. And I'll release the hounds after."

"Thanks!"

* * *

As the movie finally started, Quinn whispered into Rachel's ear, "When I watched this the first time, Britts and S already had. Remember, they always watched movies first because of the whole thou shalt not watch any movie but that which will bore your tits off edict. Britts told me and I can quote, 'San thinks she's Inigo Montoya. She's been Westley since were three. Don't tell her you know.'"

They watched the movie, curled up in their loveseat and Rachel felt transported by it all.

The stars, the popcorn, the strangeness of having any friends at all.

It was her perfect movie. She felt like she was climbing the Cliffs of Insanity because Quinn was holding her. Looking around her, she still had the blonde girl's complete attention and having friends? It was a fairy tale and a bit of an adventure and romance and she was actually living it. Right that minute.

Living it was fun. Knowing she had the people she needed to fight against anything. She wasn't by herself. Quinn, Santana, Brittany, Daddy, Dad, Noah, Finn…everyone there—they were all there for _her. _Even Vinnie._  
_

So she laughed as she enjoyed the movie, knowing Quinn was just as much a farm boy Westley as Santana. And Santana thinking otherwise was foolish. She kissed Quinn at the end of the movie and didn't even care who was watching.

* * *

**A/N: Song referenced is from the Powerpuffs soundtrack, which is about as awesome as things get. **

**You Tube. **

**watch?v=21zzMkUePow**

**All of it rocks and you should own it. **

**Now we're off to Regionals, very Faberry. And VERY Faberry after that. If you're still reading at all. I wouldn't blame you if you weren't. **


	56. Chapter 56

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

**Regionals. And remember they're **_**my**_** Regionals—so just as AU as the rest of this story, including Rachel's relationship with Shelby, which also obviously strays from canon. We have a few clean-ups on aisle five's here and a foreshadowing of what's happening in the epilogues to this story. As you know, I'm taking them to age 20 and 25 when this story is finished. I think I'll probably have a snapshot of them at 30, as well. And of course I mean all four of them. **

* * *

"So we're meeting on the DL _because_, Deryk?"

"Rachel said you'd bring me something to think about but maybe wouldn't want it to be public."

"Whatever. I'm here because it was the only way I could get the midge to shut the fuck up."

Deryk was completely terrified by Santana but equally sure the girl adored Rachel which was the only reason he had the nerve to talk to her, which he never had privately. The party had been one thing but he could feel sweat running down his back as he looked into her fierce brown eyes.

"Well, I know how that goes. I work with her, too. We just shovel coal—she's the engineer. So, anyway, let's hear it."

Santana shrugged, then grudgingly put her iPod in a docking station and played three original songs that were so completely right to him, musically and vocally, that he was blown away.

"You sequenced all this?"

"Yeah."

"I mean, I knew you could sing but you can play!"

"I've been playing the piano since I was three and you know—whatever—computers and keyboards can do a lot."

"You can't be serious hiding this. You're brilliant. These are already hits waiting to happen."

"Who knows. Maybe. But first I'm just getting the hell out of high school with Britts."

"Take me with you."

"To New York?"

"Wherever you go. Send me some files and I'll do some remixes. I'll show you I'm up to it. Seriously. Please. _Please_ put me on the S-train."

That was so lame in expression she could barely believe it. But he was massively talented in his own right and she knew that, too. Rachel had nearly irritated her tits off talking about him. He looked so excited and hopeful and determined, she had no answer except, "Fine. I'm first and Britts is always going to be right by me but then there's the midge. She'll do Broadway but everybody needs a pop hit. For her, I'll write something like 'I love myself so much and you better fucking love me, too. Or else.' And then we could hit up Mercedes and Kurt if they don't piss me off too much in the meantime."

"You are a Golden God."

"Thanks, I guess. And you've been spending too much time with the hobbit."

"S-Ryk Productions."

"What?"

"S-Ryk. Sounds cool. I'll prove I can be your partner, I promise, but it already sounds cool."

She looked into his wildly happy light blue eyes and held out her hand, "S-Ryk, huh? Hi, Ryk, I'm S."

He shook her hand and smiled. Finally. He could see his whole future on the horizon. And he hadn't even needed his best shirt.

* * *

Rachel was reading history and Quinn was reading chemistry on the blonde's bed when Quinn exhaled, "Cleveland."

Rachel had felt exasperated an hour before but she finally shut her book, "Baby, you've said Cleveland approximately fourteen times in the past two hours."

"I don't want to spend the night in Cleveland."

"Why? Have you had some traumatic experience in Cleveland I don't know about?"

"We have to spend the night."

"As you said just a second ago. And that's bad…_because_?"

"Vocal Adrenaline?"

"Don't forget we're also performing against a group called Ear Candy. That's a name fairly difficult to forget—or believe, frankly."

Quinn wasn't looking any happier.

"What bothers you about Vocal Adrenaline, baby?"

"I'm going to sing a solo and I know Jesse St. Douchebag will be my competition. Which is sort of a done deal about who wins there, right?"

"Not as far as I'm concerned."

"That's nice of you to say but let's live in the real world."

"Quinn. Tell me what's really bothering you. Please."

"Jesse. I hate him and you know why. And it's not just the egg facial."

"Jesse means nothing to me."

"He's more talented than I am. And don't even bother to lie about that."

"In sheer musical talent, yes. He is. But music isn't just ability. It's feeling. You'll beat him."

"I won't."

"You won't unless you believe me. I believe me and I believe in you. You'll beat him and I'll be laughing. That can't be what this is about because you don't care about Glee competition all that much. And don't bother to lie and say you do."

Rachel waited for Quinn to speak and it seemed like an hour but was probably two minutes.

"Where's Beth if Shelby's out of town? It crushes Puck, too, if you don't know. He called me today and he was actually crying. Because what if she's in the same hotel as we are and we don't even know it?"

Rachel took a long time to say, "I could always ask Shelby if you want. She'll take my call and tell me the truth. After all, I _am_ her daughter although I'm competing against her. There wouldn't be anything untoward in my asking if you want to know."

Rachel got out of the bed, even as Quinn said, "I'm sorry. Please. I'm sorry."

"Don't, Quinn. Just…don't. It's fair to think about your daughter because you're her mother. I don't have a mother but she'll answer if I ask a simple question that has nothing to do with our non-existent relationship. Not that I wouldn't go there if you needed me to. Emotional extortion isn't beneath me."

She grabbed her phone and the number was clearly speed-dialed.

After two seconds, she said, "Shelby?"

"Hello. Yes, it's Rachel and no. No problem. As you know, we'll all be in Cleveland on Saturday but I needed to inquire about Beth's whereabouts during our stay. Two of my teammates are particularly concerned as you might imagine and it's not fair for them not to know, considering the circumstances."

A long pause.

"Staying with her aunt for the night? And Beth knows her?"

A long pause.

"Four kids? That sounds great. I'm glad she already has little buddies. Thanks, Shelby. Take care and I'll see you on Saturday. Tell your team to break a leg—they'll need to."

Shelby obviously laughed because Rachel did, too.

"Bye."

"As you heard, Beth will be spending the night with her aunt Jane, who has four children who evidently fight to hold her and play with her. She won't be in Cleveland but she'll be fine."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not. It's nothing. I'm happy you care about your child. She's lucky she has two moms. I'm going to get some Vitamin Water for us. Proper hydration is essential!"

As Rachel left the room, Quinn felt like she'd somehow just punched a hole in Rachel's heart and said with vehemence, "Fuck!" to the empty room.

* * *

**Court Date**

"I have no idea why I have to be here."

"You're the injured party, baby-girl."

"Right. Yeah. Whatever."

She'd been prickly for days in a way that was quite unlike her but Eric and Jacob knew a bratty teen was better than a frightened or a sad teen and if that's how she needed to deal with it, so be it.

They met Judy and Quinn and Liam at the courthouse and were joined by their lawyer, John Samuel, who said, "It'll be quick. He'll plead out and we'll get going. Again, Rachel, if you want to give a victim's statement, you can."

"I'm no victim. I was a bystander to stupidity."

He'd met Rachel a few times and wasn't surprised by this. "The judge will ask you if you want to speak. Just a heads up."

She shrugged and gave him a lukewarm half-smile, "Thanks, Mr. Samuel, but I don't particularly care to."

Quinn only glanced across the aisle as they entered the room. A court case starring her sperm donor. A shockingly thinner sperm donor supported only by his lawyer. She wondered vaguely where Toni was for a second and then wasn't surprised at all, remembering Toni didn't play supporting roles. It was so weird that this was actually happening that she had to shake her head as Judge Mary Peterson acquainted them with the rules of the plea bargain. And had to listen to her sperm donor explain his actions through a mouth that was still wired shut, making his language strange yet still understandable, much like she'd decided he was himself.

"Judge Peterson, I had no premeditation in my action. I saw Ms. Berry and I was angry. I had been told she was in a gay relationship with my daughter and that is against my Christian beliefs. I just—snapped, I guess. I'm deeply sorry and ashamed that I hurt her. It's entirely my fault and whatever you think I should pay for it, I will. I truly know I deserve the maximum sentence you can give me."

Judge Peterson wasn't a person who played cool about cases of abuse. Neither was John Samuel. "Let's see what you did, Mr. Fabray. Look at the screen to your right."

She clicked her remote and flicked through three pictures of Rachel's livid swollen face taken at its worst.

"Ms. Berry, if you don't mind, will you stand up?"

Rachel stood.

"Russell Fabray, stand up."

He stood.

"Don't you move or I will have my officers teach you a lesson you evidently didn't learn when you were a child. Look at this tiny little girl. She's a child. You assaulted a little girl, Mr. Fabray. Sit down and thank you, Ms. Berry, for your forbearance."

John Samuel stood and said, "The only witness I'm calling is Dr. McNamara, her neurologist."

After he was sworn in, Samuel asked, "What were the possible repercussions of the blow to Ms. Berry's head."

"As it was, Rachel Berry suffered a concussion, profound whiplash to her neck and a serious temporal skull fracture. He broke her skull. Her skull. Don't just hear that word. Know what it means. The place where her brain rests. He broke her skull with his fist. I'm not being hyperbolic when I say if that hound—excuse me—Mr. Fabray, had hit her just the slightest bit harder, he would have irreparably damaged her or killed her. He punched a very small girl in nearly the worst place he could. I'm delighted she's healthy now but you should know it's only God's tender mercy that she is. It was a villainous punch for any person to take but particularly for a tiny female child and I don't care if you think I'm philosophizing about it. I'm one of the very best neurologists in the world and you can look that up and know something."

He pointed at Russell, "You, sir, deserve the most punishment this court can give you. Excuse my editorial comment, judge, and surely not to be stepping on your toes but it's true or I'm not Irish and I know I am."

"So noted. Thank you, doctor."

After Dr. McNamara had left the stand, Judge Peterson asked, "Ms. Berry, before I make my ruling, would you like to say anything?"

Rachel stood up. "Thank you, judge, but no. I've dealt with bullies and homophobic bigotry all my life. I don't feel the need to comment on Mr. Fabray's actions or his reasons for them because to do so would take more oxygen than I'm willing to waste on him. Legally and for the purposes of this court hearing, I understand I'm the victim of this crime. But I'm not and never will be anyone's victim." She smiled at the judge, "And since I just said more than no, I suppose I did have something to say. Thank you for offering me the opportunity."

The judge smiled as she said, "Thank _you_, Ms. Berry."

Quinn stood. "Judge Peterson?"

"You are?"

"Quinn Fabray. May I please say something?"

"And why should I allow you to?"

"I'm Russell Fabray's biological daughter and he attacked Rachel Berry because she's my girlfriend."

The judge looked at her for a very long moment. "Very well. I'll listen but know I'll cut you off if you're not on topic."

"Understood. I'm 16 years old, Judge Peterson. Everyone on this side of the aisle has a permanent restraining order against the accused. I made a horrible one-time mistake that was completely my fault when I was 15 and ended up pregnant. When Russell Fabray found out, he threw me out of our home. That's the sort of man he is. I had myself declared an emancipated minor when I was 15. I _am _actually sorry I disappointed him and my mother I don't blame either of them for that. I disappointed _myself_ with my pregnancy but I carried my child to term and gave her up for adoption. I loved her enough to keep her safe in my body and I loved her enough to give her to someone who could provide the life she deserves. Point one. Point two? I'm not sorry I happen to be gay. I _am _gay and my sperm donor can't change that. I only wish so much that he'd hit me rather than Rachel. Russell Fabray is the sort of man who would throw a pregnant child on the street in the middle of winter, even when it caused me such suffering. I was thrown away like garbage, Judge Peterson. It took everything I had every day just to breathe and force myself to eat because I wouldn't have. I can sincerely promise you I wouldn't be here if I didn't honor the responsibility I owed the child growing inside me. I was exactly that depressed and hopeless. Russell Fabray is a man who didn't care if his daughter lived or died or if his daughter's child lived or died and he's someone who nearly killed another child only because I love her. I suppose, in summation, I just wanted step up as a character witness for dear old dad and to give you my opinion. Like Rachel Berry, I'm not a victim but I, too, have been victimized by Russell Fabray. Thank you for allowing me to speak."

This was said with such calculation, precision and so coldly that Peterson was struck nearly dumb. She nodded after a moment. "Thank you, Ms. Fabray."

"Mr. Fabray. Please stand."

He stood with his counsel.

"Looking at the child you assaulted and nearly killed, I wish I could do more than I can. Listening to your daughter, I wish I could do more than I can. However, the law is what it is. Because you have admittedly and grievously committed aggravated battery against a minor child at the risk of her life, I hereby sentence you to one year in prison. With good behavior, if you even know what that is, I predict you'll be out in four to five months. As you espouse such strong religious beliefs that they led you to attack a tiny girl, I would suggest you take that time to examine your soul. A version of religion that makes it more reasonable for you to abuse children than nurture them is lacking, Mr. Fabray. Seriously lacking. If you are indeed a Christian, can you imagine the Christ you profess to worship treating your daughter or Ms. Berry in the ways you have? Would He throw a child carrying a child out on the street in winter or batter another child? Somehow, given my reading and even the smallest bit of common sense, I think not. You need to look inside yourself and find the grace to truly repent, sir, because what you have done is not only a crime, it is a sin. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How much longer will your jaw be wired closed?"

"Another month."

"Take note, sir. Take note because I'm showing you a kindness you've denied three children. I will make it a condition of your detention that you remain in solitary confinement until one month after your jaw is unwired. You have two months to heal. You need to concentrate on your nutrition because you're clearly malnourished and no one should be unable to eat solid food or at least speak up for himself in a potentially hostile incarceration environment. Not that you, notably, allowed your daughter, her unborn child or Ms. Berry that last privilege. That's grace, sir. If you believe in God, thank Him tonight for giving me the will to extend it to you."

She turned to the other side of the aisle. "Thank you very much, Ms. Berry and Ms. Fabray, for your bravery and your honesty. You're alive and healthy and thank goodness for that. I'm very impressed by you both. In my experience as a judge, having seen so many tragic cases where the facts were otherwise, simply having lived sometimes is almost unbelievable. Thank goodness or thank God, as you decide. Be happy for that, young ladies. I hope with all my heart you will consider this matter closed. Walk away and feel proud of yourselves. You deserve to. We're adjourned."

As everyone rose, Russell heard Quinn say, "Daddy? I think vegan Thai's in order." She wasn't talking to him.

Eric hugged her and said, "Me too, baby. You up for it, Judy?"

"Are you kidding? Movie night!"

Russell watched as Rachel and Jacob hugged his ex-wife. He was completely outside looking in on what used to be his life. Now he'd be inside looking out. He was smart enough to appreciate the irony of that. As he felt an officer cuff him, he nearly laughed. He didn't need handcuffs—he was emaciated and middle-aged with no fight left in him—but he almost appreciated the gesture that suggested he was still a man.

* * *

After hugging everyone and as the court dispersed, Liam made his way toward the bench before a warden stepped in front of him.

"Permission to approach the bench, ma'am?"

"Permission granted. Doug—I don't think he's going to shoot me. Let him talk."

Doug stepped aside.

Liam lowered his voice, "I don't know if you've noticed but it was glaringly obvious to me from the stand that you wear no wedding ring."

She almost laughed but smiled, instead, "I don't wear one for a reason. I'm not so secretly single. And at least fifteen years older that you are, doctor."

"Who can tell these days when you lasses are so lovely. I don't want to queer the case, so to speak, but when would it be reasonable for you to have dinner with me if you'd consider the offer?"

"Good question. Fabray pled out—I wouldn't have to recuse myself on sentencing. He asked for the max, deserved it and I gave it to him."

"And all that's fancy talk for you want to have dinner?"

"When?"

"You'll be surprised to know it but I eat every day of my life. My mam made me and I never broke the habit."

"Tonight?"

"I'll off duty. Your choice. I'll eat anything that's not moving."

"And is that supposed to dispose me more or less kindly toward you, Dr. McNamara?"

Liam looked at Doug. "And I'm not imagining she just said that?"

Doug shook his head.

"Consider me at your service, ma'am."

"Tonight. Give me your card."

* * *

Bus rides to Cleveland were about as fun as they were boring. And Rachel was completely beside herself.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Nothing."

"You seem a little hyper. I wish you were doing the solo—you'd feel better."

"I don't care about that. I'm merely excited. Why don't we bowl on my iPad!"

"Oh my God. Lefty?"

Santana and Brittany were one row forward. "Yeah, Cap?"

"Rach wants to iPad bowl. Help a sistah out."

Santana stood up, "Trade up. At least I know you won't be trying to feel up my baby."

"Can't say the same about you, can I?"

"Whatever."

Brittany said, "Serious up. If you two make out, I totally want to watch."

The bus was suddenly silent for a few moments because everyone wondered about the four of them and this was real news from the front and on the fly.

Puck closed his eyes and it looked like there was a prayer involved.

"Mr. Schue, Ms. Pils? Close your ears for a sec. Fuck off, S."

"Day-dreaming again, baby-doll? Whatever, let me at my short-stack."

"I don't know why you won't bowl with me, Quinn."

"Because, Rachel my love, you always beat me and then you gloat so obnoxiously that I get mad and we're pissy with each other for an hour afterward."

"Oh. Well, yes. I suppose that _is_ true."

"It's totes cool, anyway Rach. I'm sleepy and Q is the most snuggly nap-time person ever."

"Britts?"

"Sorry, San. But you know she is. We voted."

Because Santana and Brittany voted on any number of things, she might have acknowledged this if she weren't surrounded by a school bus full of kids who were clearly listening in. But she was. She snorted, looked around and said, "All the rest of you need a life that doesn't involve us."

"Word. Because who cares, right?" Lauren asked.

"Hold up. Was that a slam?"

"Take it however you like it. Hard boiled? Sunny side up?"

She didn't say anything more and that gave Santana what she knew she should consider a graceful out if she didn't want her ass beat down again in front of everyone. Or Britts to get involved. She decided a glare would be enough for her pride and then took a seat next to Rachel, who was holding her predictably pink iPad. "You go first, tiny-pants. I like you in those skinny jeans, by the way. Hot as hell, as you know."

"Hello?"

"Chill, Capitan. I'm petting the hobby in spirit only. Prepare to succumb to your better, Rachel Barbra."

"Thank you for your favorable comment on my jeans. And succumb?"

"Whatever. How about suck it, my little serenading succubus?"

"There's no need to get unruly, Santana, just because you know I'm about to bitch-slap you bowling. See? I can employ consonance, too."

"You know what? No. I won't even say it. Just bring it, shorty."

It was so quiet after their tiny skirmish that Rachel and Santana could hear Brittany say, "It's like lullaby and goodnight when they fight, isn't it? I like it. Can I rest on you. Q?"

Quinn lowered her voice but they could still hear, "Of course you can, Baby B."

"You have two Baby Bs now."

There was a long pause before they heard, "I do. But you were first. You're mine and always will be. She's not mine and never will be. Get some rest."

After a heated bowling tournament that Rachel won and nearly teleported out of her seat over, Santana stood and looked at Brittany and Quinn, who were sleeping nearly on top of each other. She took a picture with her phone and sat back in her seat. "I promise I'll beat you next time, bish, but lookie." She showed her the picture, "Two non-blondes looking at two perfect blondes."

Rachel sighed, "They're so pretty."

"And we corralled them so evs we're not exactly chopped liver either, hobbsy"

Rachel stamped her foot on the bus floor, "That was two unethical animal references in one sentence!"

"As my Cap would say? My work here is done."

Rachel glared at her, sulked for a few moments and then rested her head on Santana's shoulder.

Santana whispered, "I promise I'll beat you at bowling but I'd never hit you. Ever in my life. I'm sorry I even used that word. You know what I mean but it's still hurting me to even think about so I'm sorry."

Santana kissed the side of the girl's head and smiled when Rachel merely huffed her acknowledgement and, after just a few minutes, began to gently snore. Santana stared at the back of the bus seat in front of her, realizing she could write a book at this point. The Care and Feeding of Hobbits.

Damn.

* * *

"Cleveland!" Rachel said as she marched off the bus and as everyone followed her. What Will had wanted to say was gone. She was shorter but she was always larger.

"It's not New York, but it's certainly bigger than Lima! Game on, people! We here to win! I'm so proud of you and I love all of you and I know that nothing on Earth can stop us. Let's have fun and kick some ass!"

Everyone clapped and Will thought about the fact that Rachel wasn't really competing at all and yet was still as spirited and enthusiastic as if she were doing the solo, the duet and taking a major part of the group number. Mercedes and Kurt and Tina saw it, too.

Quinn passed by them and sang, very quietly, "You humble me, Lord?"

* * *

"Vocal Adrenaline is our competition, people! Ear Candy will be ludicrous."

"Like Ludacris?"

"No, Matt, in the sense they're nonsensical."

"Okay—but you know that because?"

"Their name tells me everything I need to know. The sched? Mercedes? If we win the toss, we go last."

"How 'bout first?"

"How 'bout I know what I'm doing. No questions. Go in and win it. We're last, co-captain."

"Got it."

* * *

And just like that, after two tosses, they'd won the chance to go last.

Ear Candy's guy was good. Predictable but good.

Jesse was insanely good, as anyone had known he would be.

And then it was time for Quinn.

Rachel stepped forward and kissed her so passionately that Puck was deliriously happy, as he imagined all right-thinking humans should be watching that.

"I'm so in love with you. You and Noah are going to kill it."

She kissed him with about the most heat a person could give a guy when she was just kissing him on the cheek.

"Okay—break it up!"

He picked up his guitar. "It's almost like she just kissed me on the cheek."

"I saw tongue!"

"You did _not_. Rach—is there a stop or a mute button on your woman?"

"I've never looked for one. I never want her to stop and I love hearing her."

He closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them, "Okay, that was officially hot. Just need more details. Keep 'em comin'."

She ignored him and spoke to Quinn, "Are you nervous, baby?'"

"No…or sort of. Maybe. Does suddenly hating everything mean you're nervous?"

"For you, probably. Just shake it off. Three deep breaths, both of you." As they took their breaths because they saw that glint in Rachel's eye that meant there wasn't a choice, she said, "Get out there. I love you both so much and I'm so proud of you. I know Beth would be, too."

* * *

Judy, Eric and Jacob knew that Quinn was the soloist but they didn't know the song and were surprised that Puck followed her onstage where two chairs had been placed. The arrangement was so simple, it blistered them. He didn't look at her or she at him but she seemed to be singing to anyone, everyone and God. Rachel had never seen anyone project such raw and breathtaking broken sadness on the stage.

At the end of the song, Quinn patted Puck's leg and gave him a tiny smile as they stood and there was a long silence before everyone stood to applaud. Puck stood back and bowed to his child's mother.

Eric, Jacob and Judy were crying.

Rachel was, too. She'd looked around the room and saw it. Quinn had done it.

* * *

"Damn girl! You killed that!"

"Thanks, Mercedes."

Rachel wiped her eyes, "You did and now that we've won the solo competition, let's focus on duet!"

"Oh please. How do you know we won, Rachel?"

"I watched, Quinn. It was fantastic. Jesse's pyrotechnics were nothing comparatively. You reminded the audience what music and song are for. Emotion. I'm terrifically proud of you. And I must say, it's rather invigorating not to be performing and to be able to just watch."

She looked at the other people in the room, "Not that I intend to get used to that, mind you, but still. I'm very pleased. Tina and Mercedes. Is there anything I can do for you before I go assess the hell that will be Ear Candy and the predictably great Vocal Adrenaline?"

"Thanks, Rach, but I'm fine. You, Mercedes?"

"I'm good."

She pointed, "Fantastic! On the table over there you'll both find a mug of very warm water with a tiny bit of lemon and honey in it."

"You didn't give_ me _any water and lemon and honey."

"I didn't, Quinn, because you weren't belting out a song that needs a throat completely uncloyed."

Quinn could see Rachel was in full-out captain mode and stepped away but watched with affection.

"Hell to the no. Are you saying my throat's cloyed?"

"Have you ingested any dairy today, Mercedes?"

"Milk with my cereal."

"Me, too," Tina admitted.

She spoke at nearly triple speed for her, "You're both undoubtedly more cloyed than you imagine. Go drink at least half of it and then take the rest and gargle it in the bathroom and spit it out. The point of the drink is to create saliva with the honey, cut any mucous with the lemon and warm and prep your vocal cords with the water. But not to create a burning need to urinate, hence the gargling."

Tina rolled her eyes even as Mercedes shot daggers at Rachel with her eyes but they dutifully trooped over to the table and grabbed their mugs of water.

Santana smirked, "You're playing fast and loose with the word cloy, hobbs. I think you're only just scraping through on the connotation front."

"As intended. It sounds disgusting, therefore I use it. I could do better, though. Would you prefer my importuning them over the dangers of a surfeit of phlegm?"

"Cloy all damn day."

"That's what I thought."

As Tina drank her water, she said very quietly, "She's even bossier when she's not singing than when she's singing. Who knew?"

Mercedes shrugged, "I think she's just nervous for us. I know she always wants to be the star but look at this stupid water she made for us. We never do stuff like that for her. And look at her little face."

Rachel was at wing of the stage watching the Ear Candy duet with a look of ferocious determination, as if she could make them flub it with only her eyes and intention.

Tina wrinkled her nose as she smiled, "She _is_ sort of adorable."

"Don't let Quinn hear you say that."

"I know, right?"

After they'd done their drinking and gargling, they took their last bathroom break and make-up check, neither of them admitting to the other that they didn't want to even hear Vocal Adrenaline. As they crossed to the side of the room, closest to the stage Mike winked at Tina and crossed his fingers and everyone gave them a reassuring pat although no one said a word.

Except for Rachel. "Alright ladies! Chin up. Star face. You know your lines. They need you—you don't need them and everything's coming up roses!"

They stared at her. "You actually say that before you sing, don't you?"

"It never fails, Tina! What's tremendously exciting is that you're both going to knock Shelby Corcoran and Vocal Adrenaline right back on their bazoos!"

"Bazoos?"

They heard the announcement, "And now, Mercedes Jones and Tina Cohen-Chang from New Directions!"

Tina and Mercedes rocked it—so much so they gave Rachel chills and she was jumping up and down when they left the stage.

Everyone surrounded them and hugged them. Even as they celebrated, Rachel was saddened to think that everyone would have hugged Quinn if she didn't always keep that shield around her that said to almost everyone 'touch me not.'

Rachel barked out, "Ha ha! We won that one, too! I believe there's a thirty-minute intermission so that this venue can sell soda and completely unethical foodstuffs. Everyone change for our group number, then relax. We're going to win today. I can smell it in the air!"

Rachel was so excited even Quinn wasn't completely sure she wasn't on crack.

* * *

During the break, Will and Emma walked past Shelby, who pulled him by his tie into her personal space. "What's going on?"

"Hi, Shelby. You remember Emma?"

Shelby smiled, "Yes. I do. Hello Emma. What's going on?"

"Clarify a little, maybe?"

"Where's Rachel?"

"Backstage with the club getting ready for the group number."

"And she's not a soloist or in the duet because?"

"Our team has a deep bench, Shelby. Rachel herself pushed other members of the group forward."

"And that was even before the attack so it worked out perfectly."

Will cast a horrified look at Emma and she immediately wished that words were things she could wipe away with anti-bacterial gel.

"Attack? What attack?"

"Rachel is healthy now and she's fine and she's backstage—I just saw her two minutes ago."

"But she was attacked? By whom?"

"I'm not going to discuss it with you and you're not going to either. Not until a better place and time."

"She's my daughter!"

"She's your biological child, Shelby. Not your daughter."

Shelby marched past him toward the New Directions dressing room with he and Emma in hot pursuit.

Rachel heard the commotion first and Quinn, Santana, Brittany and Puck leapt to stand in front of her.

"Shelby? What are you doing here?"

"You were attacked? Attacked and no one told me?"

"Why should they? Please don't do this now. Our club needs to focus! I'll be happy to talk to you but not now."

"But that's just—that's—"

Puck stepped forward and got in the woman's face. "You know who I am, Ms. Corcoran. Rachel's dating Quinn, Ms. Corcoran. She got gay-bashed, Ms. Corcoran. She got her skull fractured, Ms. Corcoran. She's alive, Ms. Corcoran. I'd like for you to leave, Ms. Corcoran, because I think about Beth every hour of every day of my life and I know Quinn does, too. If you only care about Rachel when you can make some drama during a time that doesn't help her at all, leave the loving her to us because as sucky as we sometimes are, I know we'll do a better job than you have. Leave!"

Quinn wrapped her arms around him although she could see Rachel was shell-shocked and wanted to go to her instead. "Shhh, Noah. No, sweetie. Shhh."

This seemed to give Shelby some equilibrium. "I understand your anger and I'm really glad she has such loyal friends. It was just a surprise to hear she'd been hurt and I was concerned. That's all."

"Not so concerned you won't upset my club before a performance. You could put this performance on hold, couldn't you?"

"Are you serious, Rachel? Do you really think so little of me?"

Rachel's shoulders slumped. "No. Of course I don't, Shelby. I'll tell you what you want to know after this competition. But you've heard the salient points. I'm in a relationship with Quinn. Her father fractured my skull when he found out. I'm okay and surrounded by people who love me. No worries, Shelby. And I truly appreciate your concern. Let's leave it there. My club needs to relax and your club needs to get ready to get beaten."

She smiled at Shelby and moved around her self-appointed guards to hug her, "I'm sorry, but there _is_ a beat-down incoming."

Shelby kissed her on the top of her head, "I love you, Rachel."

"Thank you."

* * *

"I'm sorry for the interjection of family drama into our break."

Sam said, "We're family. No biggie, right?" Everyone murmured their agreement.

* * *

"Rachel?"

"Kurt?"

He grabbed her by the hand and led her away from the others. "I have two wrapped packages I swore we wouldn't open until just before the group number."

"O…_kay_."

"From David."

"And as long as it's not Semtex or white powder, I suppose we're fine."

"I think I can guarantee that. Let's see what we have!"

They opened them at top speed and found the same gift. A Barbra Streisand Barbie with one leg placed in a tiny cast.

Rachel's note read, _"The cast is easy to remove. Babs is fine. Break a leg. I'm sorry I can't be there. Your friend (I hope)._

_David_

Kurt's note read, _"You can take the cast off—it's easy. Break a leg and I'm sorry I can't be there cheering you on. I know you guys will kill it._

_XO, K._

_Dave_

They read each other's cards and Rachel said, "This is possibly the best present in the history of mankind."

"I'm in complete agreement."

"I would date that boy if I didn't already have a girl."

Kurt blushed, "I think he really likes me."

Rachel kissed his warm cheek. "When someone butters up your friends? The Magic Eight Ball says, 'It is decidedly so.' I will continue to do recognizance. But 'Signs point to yes.'"

"Rachel?"

"Kurt?"

"I love you." He kissed her so gently and tenderly on the lips that her heart flopped about and did something it never had, because it was so unexpected.

"I love you, too, Kurt."

"Let's go pulverize Vocal Adrenaline!"

"Right? It's like boxing. Rope-a-dope!"

* * *

They did just that. And what was best was that they knew it even as they did it. And the other teams did, as well.

When they were named the winners, Rachel could only laugh as Brittany fiercely protected her as Finn put her on his shoulders and carried her to get the trophy.

She blew an air-kiss to Shelby, who laughed and smiled and made a call-me sign to Rachel that the girl acknowledged.

* * *

It was magical. And in the privacy of their dressing room, as every person in the club looked at her on Finn's shoulders with the trophy in her hands, so high above them all? She hadn't done anything but back-up for the group number but she was their captain. Their still-living, still-breathing captain.

"Rachel!"

"Matt! Shh! Everyone, if Matt want's to talk, and we know he never does, we need to listen."

Everyone laughed, and he did as well.

"I just wanted to say you're the only dream come true I ever met in my whole life and even if nobody else will admit it because they're stupid and just kids and don't want to say it, I know most of them feel it. Thanks, Rach."

"Thank you, Matthew."

Mercedes lifted her cup of Sprite. "To Rachel, our captain. This win's all yours, baby!"

Everyone lifted their cups and Rachel ran her hand through Finn's hair as she looked at them. Feeling love.

From everyone surrounding her. Finally. Love.


	57. Chapter 57

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**Rated: T**

**A/N Let me be up-front, okay? First chapter for what's going to happen. Look at the rating. Now look at me. Look at your man. Now look at me. I'm not a man but your man could smell like me if he started using a lady-scented body-wash. (Wtf? Old Spice Man? You're cute but gtfo of my A/N.)**

**Seriously? I don't have a problem with other authors writing explicit Glee sex scenes because we all know the people playing the characters are in their 20s. I was once a teen and _know_ teens talk sex and have sex. My characters have talked all sorts of smack in this story. The sex has been implied. The following is as far as I'll put on the page about a sexual encounter between characters who are minors in _my_ story. However, let's see what I can do within that rating. Perhaps better than you'd think. Or not. Feel free to tell me. I like hearing from readers. **

**I'm putting a couple of descriptions of kid's books into the next chapter but won't put the title names in. No need to get returns for search engine queries on those stories leading to this story. Thanks, all of you who continue to read. **

**First part of two. This was getting way too long. **

* * *

It had taken Rachel three days after the massive victory celebration of Regionals to approach her fathers after getting home from school.

"Daddy? Dad? I wanted to ask you something."

"What's up, baby-girl?"

"I don't know if Judy mentioned it to you but she's going out of town this weekend for a Realtors' conference."

Jacob shook his head, "Nope. No problem though. Does Quinn need to stay over?"

She took two enormous breaths and said in as controlled a voice as she could muster, "No. I want to stay with her at Judy's." Even as she spoke she knew the tone of her voice would give her away.

Eric turned off the TV even as Jacob whispered, "_Oy_."

"It's not a big deal. We'll call you all the time. And they have an alarm system that even has lasers in the windows."

Eric's voice was gentle, "Plus lasers in Quinn's bedroom?"

Yes. Busted, Rachel thought. And so easily. "Right. I know you don't want to hear about this."

There were a long few moments of silence between them.

"We already hear what you're saying but not saying," Jacob said quietly.

"And you don't approve."

They didn't say a word.

"You don't have to approve, you know. I won't bother you with it anymore. She can stay in her house this weekend and I'll stay here. Case closed." She laughed mirthlessly, "And where have I heard that lately?"

"Rachel—"

"No! I'll leave it alone. Turn the news back on and enjoy knowing one day, I'll look back on the sweet memory of losing my virginity in a public bathroom stall or in a car or during any other five minutes anywhere when no one was looking and we had the chance. But it _will_ happen. It _will_ be with Quinn. It _will_. I don't care what you say."

They were both so flabbergasted by the heat in her voice that it took Eric a few seconds to ask, "Rachel. _Baby_. Where's all this anger coming from?"

"I'm embarrassed! You two and Quinn taught me to be embarrassed and I'm angry that I am now! I'm trying to keep my barriers with you but I won't lie to you. I want to stay with her this weekend and, if it helps, you can just imagine we're watching movies or playing board games, which we probably will be part of the time. I mean, when she's with me in my bedroom here, we're always actually doing really innocuous stuff. I never ask you what you two do when you go on weekends away, do I?"

"No. But we're married adults."

Rachel's face was stone, "Point taken. Fine, Dad. I'll be in my room."

"Baby, don't—"

She whirled about, "I'm not a BABY! I was almost killed! How do you think that feels to me?"

They were both so shocked by this that their mouths dropped open.

"What would I have missed if I'd died? What? I bet you think I'm thinking about a Tony or an Oscar or whatever. But it's not that. I could have died never knowing what it was to be loved. And I know _we _love each other as parents and child. But you _know _what I mean. I'm not even talking about sex at all. I'm talking about a connection with one other person, someone who chose me and I chose back. If I didn't get anything else I wanted in this life and I'd died, really having loved someone and been loved, that wouldn't be too much to ask, would it?"

Jacob's eyes were filling with tears, Eric saw, so he replied, "No, baby-girl. It wouldn't. We'll talk with Judy, okay?"

"Okay. And I'm sorry for my tone. It's a touchy subject I don't want to touch at all with you anymore. I'd appreciate some privacy."

She kissed her fathers and left the room.

"I'm worried about her."

"Liam said this was normal, Jake. She's still recovering from her injury."

"It's been more than five weeks."

"I know she seems normal and can do normal activities but she had a fractured skull and a concussion, honey. She might be more volatile for a while than usual. It'll take months for her to really get over it. I've told you that. Liam said it's perfectly normal and although she talks a big game and she's a brave kid, it scared her as badly as it scared us and we all know it."

"But she doesn't want to go back to Dr. Bloomfield."

"Maybe she doesn't need to. I think we need to trust her and watch her. She might just need more time, Jake."

Jacob sighed heavily, "So what do you think?"

"About?"

"The subject. The fact that she's going through this emotional upheaval isn't exactly making me feel better about giving our daughter at least tacit permission to have sex."

"I know. I don't even think I want to think about it."

"Except we have to."

"Yeah. We do. And I think we should let her go, Jake."

Jacob sat with that for a while before saying, "Really?"

Eric took his husband's hand in his. "We were 17 the first time, Jake. I know she's at a vulnerable time now but Rachel's right, in a sense. It's going to happen. It probably already would have if she hadn't been injured. Girls are miles ahead of boys. And beside that, honey, Quinn's never going to hurt Rachel. She never will."

Jacob looked up into the big brown eyes he'd loved the moment he'd seen them even when they were framed in his bully's face, "Really? You think so?"

"I know so. Once I knew I loved you, have I ever hurt you?"

"Well…there was that time on our first Thanksgiving when I cooked the turkey with that bag of things still inside it and you laughed at me."

Eric thought about it, "That was 19 years ago, Jake."

"It scarred me. How was I supposed to know? My mother made brisket for Thanksgiving! Plus! You laughed at the dress I made for Rachel when she was two."

"It was a noble effort and you're many things, Jake, but you're no seamstress. Or would that be a seamster? That sounds sorta butch. Teamster? Seamster."

Jake glared at him, "The term is tailor, thank you. That scarred me too."

Eric rolled his eyes, "You scar easy, baby-boy. I can only thank God you've lived to tell the tale."

"Now you're mocking me."

"Please. I _live_ to mock you. Always have. And seriously, have you really not noticed how much Quinn does the same thing with Rachel?"

Jacob could, and he knew it, be as self-absorbed as his daughter or she he, actually, if he were going to be fair about who came first. He furrowed his brow at the question and thought. And thought. About the many, many times he'd watched Quinn sweetly mock his daughter. It only took that slightest turn of his perception and suddenly clarity hit him, what perhaps Eric had been trying to subtly point out for a long, long while.

He realized Quinn might be what Eric was to him, although the man was so often shaking his head in laughter at him. Eric knew him and saw him completely as he was, with all of his flaws, but he still liked him. He didn't just love him. He truly _liked_ him as he was and simply smiled and mocked with completely unconditional adoration and love. If that was who Quinn was for Rachel? _Oy_. His eyes began to sting but he merely said, "I don't know why we put up with you two."

"Because we love you?"

Jacob smiled. "I believe I can speak for Rachel when I say we love you, too. I'm guessing this a situation where we close our eyes, put fingers in our ears and sing 'la la la' to block out information about our daughter."

"I think so. You want me to call Judy?"

"Please. Judy and I tend to get girly about things when we talk. There might be unnecessary tears involved."

* * *

"Quinn?"

She knew from just the tone in her mother's voice. Just slightly overly breezy and cheerful. She instantly had the fleeting thought that Rachel may have perfect musical pitch but she had perfect WASP pitch that said to her 'what-the-fuck-now?' She felt free to use Santana-speak in her head instead of what 'oh my goodness, what could the matter be?' of her youth.

"Mom?" Quinn walked into the kitchen to find her mother staring at her laptop that Quinn had been astonished the woman had not only bought for herself but had taught herself to use. The house phone was next to her on the table.

"What's up on the laptop?"

"Well, I've been stocking up on things I know you like when I've been grocery shopping and I found a site where you can do recipe searches on the ingredients in your house. How does angel hair with sun-dried tomatoes, marinated artichoke hearts and hearts of palm braised in garlic and olive oil sound? With some warm crusty Italian bread and a nice spinach salad?"

Quinn was wary but answered honestly, "Like I'd want to marry it instead of eat it."

"Good! Then that's what we're having."

"That sounds fantastic but that's a lot of work for two people."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that at all but it's not for two. I invited the Berrys to dinner tonight. Is that okay?"

And just like that, Quinn felt her force field go up. "Uh…of course. Any particular reason?"

"Well, Eric called and said that Rachel would like to stay the weekend here while I'm out of town and I thought he and I and Jacob could discuss the particulars and we could all have dinner together."

"Particulars?"

"Young teens alone? Safety? Car privileges. No road trips. No wild parties? Things like that?"

Quinn stared at her mom and her mom stared at her. Quinn finally said, "You have a great poker face, Judy Fabray. But not as good as it needs to be."

Judy's shoulders fell, "What?"

"Mom, let me tell you what I can't handle, okay? And I'm sorry, but I'm therapy-girl?"

"Tell me."

"I know what you're all thinking and you're probably right. But no. Don't. And no. I can't and won't talk about sex. Not with you and not with my dads. I can't. I can just go in my room."

Quinn suddenly felt like she was going to hyperventilate. Very seriously and she spoke in a panicked voice, "No. You know what? I'll go to San's. She'll help me. She'll keep me. I am _not_ having some awkward dinner that's completely about Rachel spending the weekend with me if you're thinking about talking about sex. No. Just _no_."

"Honey, I didn't say that."

"I hear it in your voice so don't even lie."

Judy watched her daughter whirl around and flinched as the girl lifted her fist, clearly about to punch the hell out of the wall. She almost did before she shouted, "NO!"

Quinn lowered her violently shaking arm to her side and Judy very gingerly approached Quinn and hugged her from behind. "It's just dinner. We're talking about curfews, baby. And what's allowed as far as people in the house. Everything else is personal and between you and Rachel. That's all, I swear."

Judy held Quinn, supported and moved with her as the girl slowly dropped to the floor and began to sob. Judy rocked her. "What's wrong, angel?"

Quinn shook her head violently, "I can't…"

"Yes you can."

"Don't stop hugging me?"

Judy kissed the back of Quinn's head and continued to rock her. "Never."

"Even if I sound mean and please don't apologize."

Judy tightened her hold on her daughter. "I've got you."

Quinn took a few shuddering breaths, "I don't even know how to feel about my own mother hugging me…it feels real and unreal and like I can trust it but I can't."

Judy winced but didn't say a word.

"What if I'm broken? What if I love people and don't know how to let them love me or I love someone but I can't let myself be loved?"

This punched the wind out of Judy, realizing that as much as it was an emotional question, it was also a sexual one perhaps Quinn didn't even know she was asking.

They sat there for what seemed like a very long time before Judy said, "Quinn, sweetie," she kissed the girl on the back of her head again, "You are loved. You let me love you, as lame as I am at it, don't you?"

Quinn sniffed and nodded.

"And Jacob and Eric adore you and that's a different love. They're your new fathers and they protect you and you let them love you, right?"

Quinn nodded.

"Santana and Brittany have always loved you, haven't they? Although God help you with Santana's love sometimes."

Quinn smiled and nodded.

"You accept love from all of them and you love Noah and I know it and every one of the Glee kids and what love they give you I know you're fairly aloof acknowledging but you see it, don't you?"

Quinn sniffed and nodded again and Judy squeezed her more tightly. It took a long, long time for Judy to say, "Just let Rachel love you, Quinn, in every way she wants to."

The girl slumped in her mother's arms, "Are you saying something I actually want to know but I'm pretending you're not saying?"

"I'm saying it's as simple as saying yes and I know it's going to be okay. However you express yourselves. It's a terrible thing to deny yourself love, sweetheart. Give yourself permission and don't be afraid. Not with her. If all else fails, I have no doubt in my mind that Rachel will talk or sing you through it."

And at that Quinn laughed.

They stayed like that for perhaps two minutes and then Quinn patted her mother's hands and relaxed into her mother's embrace. "I think I'm beginning to learn to like love. And honesty."

Judy smiled and sighed, "Me too."

* * *

It was actually one of the most delicious dinners the Berrys had ever had. As they had some decaf coffee and dessert, Judy held up one hand. "This weekend? My house. My rules."

Quinn's stomach turned over. Rachel's did a semi-flop.

"First. No house party."

"Preach," Eric said.

"Second. Santana and Brittany can come over. Mercedes and Kurt if you want. But no other boys except Noah and only if Santana's in the house with him the entire time. No drinking permitted."

"Mom! We can't drink."

Rachel agreed, "We're underage!"

Judy looked from her to Eric and Jacob and just laughed. "Isn't it sweet they think we don't remember being teenagers or a certain spinach dip carrot incident?"

Rachel sighed and Quinn came to her defense, "And who can forget that whole little homeless teenage pregnancy thing?"

"I was only teasing Rachel, Quinn, and she knows it. Don't be flippant about that. It hurts my feelings for both of us."

Quinn blushed and immediately whispered, "I'm sorry."

Judy patted her hand, "No worries. On we go. Underage or not, if you have people over and in some mysterious way alcohol finds its way into the house and into a guest's body, that person becomes a sleepover guest. No driving while drinking."

"Perfect," Jacob said.

"You check in with us when you're in for the night Friday, then at least morning, afternoon and evening Saturday, then on Sunday morning? Got it?'

The girls nodded.

"You will set the alarm every night and you know I can tell from my cell if it's set, right? And I'll let Jake and Eric know? Anything to add, guys?"

"I'd like for you to text us if you're leaving the house for an extended period of time. I mean, I always pretty much know when to expect Jake home and I feel safer about him knowing that."

"That sounds fair and a good idea. So girls, you understand the rules, I'm sure. Any questions?"

This was so much less horrifying than both girls had imagined that they smiled as they shook their heads no.

They then passed a pleasant hour playing Pictionary, a game that Eric always sat out if Rachel and Jacob had another team to play against. They loved the game and were always excited to play but were so spectacularly bad yet strangely good at it that it delighted him immensely. No one but them ever knew what the hell they were drawing. He had actually framed some of their drawings, made little plaques that explained them as if they were museum displays and had placed them around the home.

Because it was getting late for a school night, the teams finally called the game a draw and laughed at that pun. Eric horrified Quinn by saying, "You guys say your goodnights—I need to speak to Quinn privately."

She dutifully followed him like a person marching to her death, thinking _'Oh sonofamotherfuckingbitch. The father-talk about the daughter. Wildly awkward when she was the daughter, too. And why was she gay again?' _

He turned and looked at her pale, frightened face and chuckled before lowering his voice, "Don't—I'm not going to do the whole don't you mess with my baby thing. That's not what I needed to tell you."

She relaxed—a little.

"This isn't a father-daughter talk. Because we're also Wonder Twins, aren't we?"

"Always."

He held up his fist. "Pound."

She knuckle-bumped his fist as he continued, "And because I know you're a lot like me…" he lowered his voice to a whisper, "you might think lots of candles and candlelight are romantic, right?"

She blushed even as she whispered, "Are you saying they're…_not_?"

"No. They _are_. But I just wanted to tell you, twin to twin? Put the candles on reliable surfaces away from anything flammable. Because I promise you nothing kills the mood like having to jump up and put out a fire."

She stared at him and then swallowed a giggle. "You speak from experience?"

"Bitter, bitter experience. It really only slightly singed the drapes but still. I was playing Scrabble the rest of the night. By fluorescent light."

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

"Thanks, Daddy."

"You're welcome. That's about all I'm good for, Quinn. Fixing leaky sinks, candle advice, practical stuff. And come to think of it that was pretty damned gay guy advice, wasn't it? Damn. Still, as a father, I'm also not above suggesting a fire extinguisher but keep it out of sight."

"Will do. Thank you for the advice and for loving me."

He hugged her, "That's a slide on ice, sweetie. No work involved."

When they emerged from their talk, everyone else was incredibly relieved to see that Quinn was in one piece and actually looked completely at peace.

* * *

**Rachel Berry: Spill. What did Daddy say?**

**Quinn Fabray: Romantic safety advice**

**Rachel Berry: I'm having palpitations. Please tell me he didn't talk about safe sex**

**Quinn Fabray: Kind of sort of but not really**

**Rachel Berry: Quinn!**

**Quinn Fabray: You just kicked your foot in the bed, didn't you?**

Long pause.

**Rachel Berry: That's immaterial. I'm waiting**

**Quinn Fabray: He warned me about the fire hazards of candles**

**Rachel Berry: You have to be kidding**

**Quinn Fabray: I'm not a pregnant goat. So no. Not kidding**

**Rachel Berry: I'll ignore your knowledge of animal husbandry for the moment. Did you tell him about the candles?**

**Quinn Fabray: Are you kidding? Oh right—not a pregnant goat. I didn't. Your daddy knows me very well**

**Rachel Berry: He's yours too**

**Quinn Fabray: Luckily and I love dad too. But I think the night went well, don't you?**

**Rachel Berry: I find it odd suddenly that we aren't just talking on the phone. But yes**

**Quinn Fabray: It's a teen text problem. Talk tomorrow, pretty girl. I'm really tired but I'm looking forward to this weekend**

**Rachel Berry: I am too. I'm so in love with you**

**Quinn Fabray: Not as much**

**Rachel Berry: Imp**

**Quinn Fabray: You learn from the best**

**Rachel Berry: That I do. Goodnight, baby**

**Quinn Fabray: Night, angel**

* * *

Independent study meant doing anything but. Brittany had spirited Rachel off for work on the sub and Quinn was retrieving a book from her locker when she heard, "What's shakin', bacon?"

"Jesus San, if that's the best you got, I'm glad you're already spoken for."

"Whatever. I bring the sizzle_ and _the steak. Whatcha got planned this weekend? Me and Britts were thinking about a movie Friday night."

Quinn closed her locker and even as she turned, Santana felt her Spidey sense pinging. "Uh, I—well, we can't. My mom's going out of town to a convention for the weekend."

In one second, Santana knew what she knew but she pushed it, "Slammin'. No parentals. So we're all clear for a house party?"

Quinn stared at her own feet, "No—I can't. We've got rules and stuff and—"

"Hold up. Who's we?"

Quinn looked into Santana's eyes. "Rachel."

And because Quinn feared her friend's reaction, she felt her heart sort of jump a little when Santana's eyes widened in understanding even as the expression in them softened. "Oh. I gotcha. Okay. Let's take a walk, Cap."

They didn't speak as they walked and Santana led them to the football bleachers outside. As they took a seat in their winter uniforms and coats, Santana slid right next to Quinn and linked an arm through hers. They stared at the field.

"So you and Rach get some private time this weekend."

"Yeah."

"Uh huh. Okay. So…any questions?"

Santana felt Quinn's arm tense but she didn't look at her. "Questions?"

"Yeah. You know—stuff you ask someone who knows something you don't."

"No—I don't know. I mean—is that bad or maybe—_should_ I have questions?"

"You don't have to, no. Want me to tell you a couple of things, then? And I'm gonna say it plain?"

"Please."

"Rachel's a virgin."

"I know that."

"I know you do. And I can pretty much promise you that's only figuratively. She uses tampons because I've given her some when she ran out. So it's not like a first time with a guy you're totally not into so you're not going to hurt her at all. Put that thought and memory out of your mind first."

"Really?"

"Promise."

"Quinn." She paused and sighed, then said, "_My_ Quinn. Serious up? You're both new at this and you should just enjoy it. It's all going to feel great and don't think of it like some pass/fail thing. It's all good. Me and Britts have been loving each other for a long, long time but sometimes even now one of us just has to tap out and say 'that's not working.' So we just do something else. That's normal and neither of us takes it personally. Just loving each other can be the whole point, okay? No goal line needed. But sometimes it takes a little time to negotiate how your body's reacting to another person when you're going for the goal and that can be different on some days for whatever reason. Sorry to tell you that but it's true. So don't feel like it's an epic fail if she isn't feeling something or you aren't. Don't freeze and don't feel shy—just do something else and enjoy it."

Santana kissed Quinn's shoulder before she continued. "That's one piece of advice but I'll give you one other and I'll preface it with the fact you're the harder sell because of a lot of stuff we both understand. I promise, if you just relax, that midget will send you into orbit. And I promise, promise, promise you can't fail with her because she'll top from the bottom as sure as I'm sitting here and she'll help you. Listen up and just really be with her and stay in the moment. Just touch her, feel her skin and listen to her heart beating under you and the sound of her breathing in reaction to you. Just _be_ with her all walls down. Naked physically is easy enough. Cap. When you're naked emotionally and I know that's like DEFCON 1 for both of us, everything will be fine. Promise. Be naked and you'll be fine."

"But that's scary."

"Sure is. Love's the scariest thing on Earth."

They sat just looking at field for a long, long time.

Quinn broke the silence. "San, you know when I first believed in God?"

"Nope. Tell me."

"It was when I realized that every single thing that tastes good to me is fattening. I just thought there had to be a God. Because you _know_? Typical."

Santana smiled even as she sighed, "Really?"

"Really. And every single emotion that's good for me frightens me."

"That's changing."

"Not fast enough."

Santana took Quinn's hand and said, "Look at me." When the girl turned toward her, she said, "You're changing the way you will and as fast as you can or maybe even should but what's never changed and never will is that I've always been a little in love with you. You know that, right?"

Quinn looked into warm brown eyes and down at the hand at hers and almost laughed thinking that very hand had literally pimp-slapped her many a time. She touched her forehead to Santana's. "Yeah. And I'm sure you know at this point the feeling's mutual."

They leaned back and smiled at each other as Santana said at first with a joke in her eyes and then complete sincerity, "I hope you're not recording this. Even like in your brain recording. I'm really glad you've found the love I honestly wish I could be the one to give you. But I can't because I just can't and I hope you know I'm not talking about sex. Not at all."

"I know. You have Britts and she deserves you more. Anyway, you always get the good stuff first."

"I got it like that."

"You sure do. Thanks for the advice."

"_De nada, mi hermosa_." Santana leaned forward and kissed Quinn. It wasn't a passionate kiss but it was much, much longer than their occasional peck. When she pulled away, she winked. "Don't think I'm not getting the deets."

"We'll see."

"See? I'm not thinking you're the picture type. But best believe I'll pops me some popcorn and listen."

* * *

They'd gone to the auditorium but it wasn't the sub after all, after Brittany asked about Rachel's weekend plans.

"Wow. So you're like spending the night with Quinn for real, like…as in for _real_?"

Rachel saw the understanding in the other girl's eyes and said, "I think so."

Brittany went completely blank.

"Is something wrong, Brittany? You don't approve?"

Brittany shook her head, "No. I was trying to think what to say to you."

"About?"

"Quinn, I guess, mostly. I mean, if you have questions about sex or something, I can probably tell you but I sort of don't think you will."

"I don't but why are you worried about Quinn? _I'm_ the virgin."

Brittany shrugged and semi-smiled. "As Irena says, 'you're a natural.' Or you will be. Quinn maybe not. You can't tell what I'm gonna say, okay?"

"Promise."

"You know she doesn't like hearing she's pretty because I've told you lots but she's really hyper super scared of being naked and stuff."

"But she's gorgeous! And she showers with lots of girls nearly every day."

"Yeah but that's because she totally hates everyone into not looking at her so no one ever does. I mean, me and San can shower with her even in the same stall and we have like forever but we never look at her body—only her eyes."

"But she wears her cheer skirt and she looks so…"

"Rad mean and like you better not say anything about her because she'll say something about you first? She knows she's super-pretty, Rach. It doesn't make her feel good. Being naked is like _whatever_ to me and San. But with Q, it's sort of like she pretends it's okay because she has to and just takes off her clothes and acts like it's nothing but I can totally tell it's like someone using a cheese grater on her skin for anyone to look at her."

They sat silently for a few moments because Rachel had nothing to say to the sadness of that, remembering how casual Quinn had been with displaying her nudity yet so anxious emotionally.

"So what should I do?"

"I know I'd totally want to just look at her if she were my girl because I know for a fact she's slammin' but maybe just not act like you're looking so much. Like pull her on the bed and cover her with you or let her cover you with her and stuff. She'll be naked but just make her feel like it's nothing you're paying attention to and she maybe won't feel weird if you don't just look. I promise you can be in bed with someone and you almost don't see anything except what you're…well…doing."

Brittany thought for another for a few seconds, "Don't even say anything because it'll make her feel bad if she needs to put on some clothes even just to go to the bathroom or stuff. And for a while, don't talk about it unless she does. I know you might have to talk sometime. But now? Serious up? It's not a biggie for us but it's super bad for her. I'm just sayin.'"

"Thank you, Brittany. That's very helpful."

"You're welcome. And I think you need to go first."

"First? What does that mean?"

"Girls together can do stuff together but I think this time one of you will go first and then the next. You should go first. She'll be scared."

Rachel smiled gently at Brittany, "You don't think _I'll_ be scared?"

"No, Rach. I mean, you're just, like, singing a song to Quinn's body about how much you love her and stuff. Except only by touching her. There are all sorts of songs you can sing to her the more you practice together. Just remember you never get nervous singing. I think you'll do great."

Rachel kissed Brittany's cheek because despite intensively researching sexual techniques on the Internet, this was the easiest, simplest and most pertinent explanation about a possible attack plan, so to speak, she'd come across.

"With Quinn, though, Rach? I know it's weird but you'll be the lead with Quinn the first time. Give her what she needs not to fall or fail."

"I don't know how."

"You sorta really do."

Rachel looked dubious, "Uh, _no_. Not so much."

"Want me to show you?"

"Please."

"Okay."

Brittany leapt up and Rachel followed her into the deserted auditorium bathroom.

"You can't say we did this to Quinn or San."

Rachel's eyes widened. "Well…I…we—"

"No biggie. Promise. San would be all swag for a minute but she'd be fine. Q would lose it, though."

"Okay."

"I'm going to hold you and I'm going to kiss your neck, okay? And I want you to react to the way it feels—not just because it's super weird it's me doing it."

Rachel nodded and Brittany backed her up against a wall. "Put your arms around me, Rach. I'm going to kiss you on the mouth once but not with my tongue because we can't but when I kiss everywhere else just feel it."

Rachel put her arms around Brittany and it was a little odd how familiar a tall blonde female body in exactly the same uniform felt. Brittany leaned in and kissed her very chastely on the lips, which she was used to. The girl kissed the side of her mouth, her jaw, and then down her neck. She could hear Brittany's breathing picking up even before she felt the girl give her an open-mouthed kiss on her neck.

She shuddered and pulled the girl closer even as Brittany gave her neck a lick that was so soft and warm and languorous that Rachel gasped as her head dropped back and her mouth dropped open. Brittany licked her neck so wetly and warmly and with increasing force that Rachel pulled the girl to her and began to move and breathe with every stroke. But when Brittany suddenly licked her much, much harder, Rachel pulled her forcefully to her and nearly growled. Brittany kissed Rachel's neck sweetly and pulled away, leaving the smaller girl intensely aroused and furiously blushing.

Brittany smiled, quite red-faced herself and shrugged, "See Rach? You just showed me what you like. You didn't have to even say anything. Even though I was the movement, _you_ were leading _me_. That's the deal. Just relax and be a good lead for Quinn. I totally knew you would be."

Rachel just stared at the girl until both of them snickered. "That was sort of evil, Brittany."

"I know. A little. But now you understand what I was trying to say."

"Completely. You're a genius. Next time? Sub."

"Totally and when you're famous, I promise I won't ever tell that I licked you."

"You can say you were drunk and thought I was one of those frogs you lick to get high."

"No. I'll say I kissed the prettiest frog ever to get a princess for a bestie."

* * *

Santana and Brittany met in the parking lot. There had always been a contingency plan for their friends' first time if it were announced and because Rachel was involved, Santana had been sure it would be.

"How'd it go, Britts?"

"I had to lick her neck like we talked about."

"Really? Damn. Wish I had that on video. So she understands now?"

"I think so. They'll be fine. She's really fucking hot, San. You can't be mean or say anything about it but she's totally a '_take me mami'."_

"Of course she is. Knew it. Did it turn you on?"

"Well, _yeah_. Of course."

Santana kissed Brittany's cheek. "Good for you. I'll help you out with that later."

"Thanks, San." Brittany returned the kiss, "Is Quinn okay?"

"Sort of. Kind of. Nervous and over-thinking. But I know you know I can't lick Quinn."

"Yeah. You guys have no self-control. Not like me and Rach."

"Excuse me?"

"You and Q like really hit each other in RL because you can't have sexy times. None of the rest of us do. You both want it. It's sort of obvious, San."

Santana lowered her brows, thinking about that, "Really? You can see it?"

Brittany nodded.

"Damn. Sorry, baby."

"_De nada_. We rule."

"We do, don't we?" They began to walk toward Santana's car, "Want some ice cream?"

"Sure. I'm in the mood to lick."

"Britts?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep that thought."

"What?" Brittany looked at her blankly for a second and then laughed, "Oh. You thought I meant the ice cream."

And because she knew Brittany was completely pranking her, Santana felt, looking at her girl, as if she could fucking walk on air.

* * *

The veggie sushi was fresh and could be covered and left out. Check.

Puckerman's bootlegging of a bottle of champagne and sake chilling. Check.

Candles burning in reasonable places. Check.

Although Quinn expected it, she nearly leapt from her seat when the doorbell rang.

She opened the door to find a radiant Rachel with a large overnight bag slung over her shoulder. As she entered the house, Quinn kissed her and then quickly set the security alarm. "That's for mom."

"Good idea. You look so pretty, baby."

"You, too."

**A/N I'm tired. Trying to put stuff in context with the parentals and with Brittana. They're hitting it tomorrow. Promise. Unless I get hit by a bus. I try leaping in front of them. Never works.  
**


	58. Chapter 58

**Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

**A/N: I've been traveling and am still traveling. A bus didn't hit me but I've been on plenty of them as well as trains and airplanes and taxis. I'm very sorry for the massive delay and this chapter is really crazy long so I'm sorry for that, too.**

**Thanks to everyone who continues to read and a special thanks to ScorpioP for keeping me up to date.**

* * *

So there they were. Finally, both thought. That moment at the doorstep, however, hadn't come without further unsolicited advice.

_**The day before was short and sweet: **_

**Eric Berry: Just one last candle tip. Promise. Don't mix scents. Before I started that fire, Jake said the room smelled like the cat shelter he volunteered at**

**Quinn Fabray: Ouch! And you still got married?**

**Eric Berry: Berrys often speak first, think later. You know that. You also probably already knew about the scent thing because you're a woman**

**Quinn Fabray: I don't think I know anything right now, frankly, so thanks for the help**

**Eric Berry: No problem. Please take care of yourself—and take care of her. She's our heart**

**Quinn Fabray: THAT was the 'I'm Rachel's daddy, you hound' talk wasn't it?**

**Eric Berry: You got it**

**Quinn Fabray: She's my heart, too. I'll be more careful of hers than my own**

**Eric Berry: Good answer. We love you Quinn**

**Quinn Fabray: Love you both right back **

_**The 'morning of' had seemed endless: **_

**Santana Lopez: Morning, mighty midge. Tonight's the night. Need anything? **

**Rachel Berry: Santana? Is this really you? It's…5:14AM**

**Santana Lopez: Is it? Gee thanks, Time Girl. I can't sleep**

**Rachel Berry: Therefore you decided to wake me although, presumably, I'd need my rest for an event it's a little gauche of you to text about?**

**Santana Lopez: Don't even. What's French for left again? Plus you're totally already awake, bish, or you wouldn't have texted the words gauche and presumably**

**Rachel Berry: …and what if I am?**

**Santana Lopez: Knew it. Don't be nervous, hobbs**

**Rachel Berry: Thank you, I suppose. But may I suggest that's easy for you to say?**

**Santana Lopez: It's not even easy to type**

**Rachel Berry: Aw, Santana. Are you worried about me?**

**Santana Lopez: Not in the slightest. About my cap, a little**

**Rachel Berry: Why do you and Brittany assume she's the one to worry about?**

**Santana Lopez: Don't be obtuse—it doesn't match that pointy little head of yours**

**Rachel Berry: I resent that**

**Santana Lopez: In other breaking news…**

**Santana Lopez: Anyway, something tells me you'd prefer my comparing your head to the sharpness of an acute angle rather than the softness of the obtuse**

**Rachel Berry: ! What has Quinn told you about my head?**

**Santana Lopez: ?**

**Santana Lopez: No really. The fuck? But oh ho ho, the places I'll be able to take that tomorrow**

**Rachel Berry: ?**

**Rachel Berry: SANTANA!**

**Santana Lopez: What?**

**Rachel Berry: That was…stop that, please. I'm anxious enough without this ribaldry**

**Santana Lopez: Is it wrong your texting that word turns me on?**

**Rachel Berry: Yes. It is**

**Santana Lopez: You know I'm kidding and you have nothing to be anxious about, Frodo. Delete this pronto but I have complete faith in you**

**Rachel Berry: Really?**

**Santana Lopez: Really. Sure, I might have picked someone taller, quieter and less obnoxious for my bestie but I can see I'd have been wrong about that**

**Rachel Berry: If you'd looked in the mirror, you'd have noticed Q loves loud, petite and obnoxious women**

**Santana Lopez: Add ethnic and you're all caught up. I been knowing that. And she REALLY loves them so no worries, estrellita**

**Rachel Berry: Ignoring what you're implying. Your original question? You didn't think I'd need anything. You just wanted to warn me to take care of Quinn, didn't you?**

**Santana Lopez: See how you are? You know I hate this shiz**

**Santana Lopez: Look. Here's the deal. I got the feelin you're gonna be a sexual velociraptor so I'm just sayin take it easy with my cap**

**Rachel Berry: Comparing me to a vicious, flightless predatory dinosaur is your attempt to fill me with the romantic confidence I'll need to take care of your best friend?**

**Santana Lopez: Well…maybe?**

**Santana Lopez: Huh. I sort of fucked that up, didn't I?**

**Rachel Berry: Yes**

**Santana Lopez: Sorry. Sincerely. I'm nervous**

**Rachel Berry: No problem. I understand when Quinn takes a big step, it's a big step for three**

**Santana Lopez: Yeah, that SHOULD be true but I fucked up big time during her baby big step**

**Rachel Berry: You sure did—and I did too. As spectacularly as only people like you or me could. But this time everything will be fine. I promise**

**Santana Lopez: You think so?**

**Rachel Berry: Know so**

**Santana Lopez: Well, okay. I guess **

**Rachel Berry: By which you mean thank you. _De nada_. Hopping on my elliptical now. Go back to sleep**

**Santana Lopez: Will do**

**Rachel Berry: Kiss Brittany for me**

**Santana Lopez: Just had to get that in, didn'tja? **

**Rachel Berry: Uh huh. See you at school. XO**

**Santana Lopez: Whatever**

**Santana Lopez: …You know what? Fine. XO. Fuck you're mushy**

**Rachel Berry: :-b**

**Santana Lopez: Now you're just begging for it**

**Rachel Berry: That's what she said**

**Santana Lopez: Clearing my memory cache now**

**Rachel Berry: Burning it to disc**

**Santana Lopez: Fuck you**

**Rachel Berry: That's what she said**

**Santana Lopez: Ack!**

**Rachel Berry: My work here is done**

Santana smiled as she put her phone on the bedside table and dutifully kissed a sleeping Brittany on the forehead before relaxing into an hour of newly untroubled sleep.

_**That afternoon: **_

Brittany approached Quinn as she was closing her locker and hugged her from behind. Quinn usually stiffened when touched by surprise but she immediately relaxed into the well-known feeling of the girl's arms surrounding her.

"Hi, Britts. What's up?"

Brittany released her and Quinn turned toward her. "Nothing—just wanted to say goodbye today all by myself."

Quinn reached forward and gently rubbed Brittany's arms, "I'm glad. We never get to spend enough time by ourselves. S and Rach are always getting in the way."

This was said jokingly but Brittany answered differently. "I _know_. It's because they're loud and we're quiet and loud people always think they have to get in the middle to bring us out of our shells or something. But just because they have built-in megaphones doesn't mean they get to say we have shells."

She frowned in annoyance; "It bugs me because they don't even notice that quiet people can totally talk to each other without their help." She sighed as her brow smoothed, "It's not like I'm really mad about it or anything because I super love them both but everyone's a shellfish to a foghorn. Am I wrong?"

Quinn only shook her head no because it was news to her that Brittany noticed this enough to comment on it. The taller girl opened her mouth, then closed it and stared so insistently that Quinn finally prompted, "Did you want to say something, honey?"

Brittany nodded, "Yes. I know it's sort of not my job to talk to you about this stuff but I thought maybe I should tell you—I mean, I know you love Rach and she loves you too so about this sex stuff…?"

Brittany paused and looked at her beseechingly, as if she hoped she'd finish the sentence for her. Quinn felt herself blushing because she and Brittany had never had a one-on-one talk about sex. Ever. She couldn't finish the sentence so she only nodded and said, "Yes?"

The other girl frowned again, made her face a blank slate and rattled out, "I guess I just wanted to say sex is as easy as falling off the top of the pyramid in cheer practice. I mean, it's so much easier to do than not to do when you're in love with someone."

Quinn blinked rapidly as Brittany continued.

"Think about it. Like if you were worried about gravity or something and someone threw you out of an airplane? You'd totally fall—and you'd feel super dumb if you'd even worried for a second about whether you would or not, right?"

Quinn thought about it. "So sex is like falling off a cheer pyramid or out of an airplane?"

Brittany gave Quinn a small, inscrutable smile before answering quietly and slowly, as if speaking to a child. "Not exactly. I know you'd fight not to fall off the pyramid or out of a plane. You'd be crazy not to. I'm just saying that when you stop fighting something you really want, inevitability is easy. It doesn't take any work at all." She shrugged, "Love and sex are as inevitable as gravity for some people. You don't worry about gravity—so don't worry about the other stuff. Understand?"

Quinn smiled, "Perfectly."

Brittany grinned as she exhaled loudly in relief, "Cool. I mean, seriously. Thank God because I know I just spaced out completely."

"Actually, Britts? Not so much. That was incredibly spot-on."

"Well, _yeah_, sure. I mean, I could tell but tangents are totally more my thing, not bulls-eyes, you know?"

Quinn's eyes widened as they always did when faced with _uber_ Brittany, "You're right. I sure do."

"Anyway, glad we're cool. I love you Quinn. Thanks for listening."

"I love you, too, and thanks for talking. We shellfish have to stick together."

Brittany snorted, "_Right_?"

* * *

**Which brought them to the night…**

After the quick kiss and the compliments, it took the space of one slightly clumsy hug, starting to speak, stopping and speaking over each other two times and about three minutes before Rachel had divested herself of her bag and coat and they'd moved into the kitchen where the champagne was chilling.

Feeling at a loss for what to do, Rachel reached for the bottle but Quinn leapt forward, saying "Not so fast, tiny. Not only am I the hostess, something about you and champagne together spells ricochet to me."

Rachel scowled. "It's not our fault! No matter what we do, Dad and I always disconcert the cork. We never mean to but it always happens."

Quinn raised one eyebrow as she peeled the wrapping from the cork and untwisted the wire cage guarding it, "You _disconcert_ the cork?"

"Yes. Badly. If you talk to Daddy about this issue, he will allege that he almost lost an eye one New Year's Eve but that's hyperbolic on his part."

Quinn nodded as she reached for a linen napkin, "How close a call was it?"

"It didn't necessitate a trip to the emergency room but ice packs were involved. Daddy says tremendously carbonated people are incapable of safely opening champagne. Dad and I remain undecided whether that constitutes his casting an aspersion on us."

Quinn smiled, "I agree with him concerning the mixture of carbonations but I think you should consider it merely a statement of fact without derisory connotation." She swiftly and deftly uncorked the champagne with only the slightest of sound.

Rachel gaped, "It's open? That's _it_?"

"That's it, sweetie. It's a wine bottle—not a mortar."

She poured for them both and handed a glass to Rachel. As she took her own, she said, "I should probably tell you that opening the wine is about as smooth as I'm going to get tonight. I'm...well—you have eyes. You can see, can't you?" Rachel watched a blush suffuse Quinn's face as she followed the girl's hazel eyes to her trembling hand holding the champagne flute.

Rachel put her glass back on the counter, took Quinn's from her hand, placed it next to hers and smiled as she looked up at her, "You're doing fine. I'm in love with you, you're right in front of me and I'm already talking way too much about nothing. In fact, I'm quite certain I'll make up things to talk about. That's my version of shaking."

Quinn's face brightened at this acknowledgment as she replied, "Add to that we're both prone to rhetorical flourish and going overboard with our vocabulary."

"Yes, we tend toward the polysyllabic in tense moments."

"It's catching. My lefty does, too."

"Don't I know it—even in texting."

Both of them reached for their champagne at the same time and laughed. Quinn took two heavy swallows before saying, "San would be thrilled to know invoking her name makes both of us reach for alcohol."

Rachel noted Quinn's taking full advantage of liquid courage but only took a small sip herself, "I'd have to agree. Santana's the heavily salted peanut in my bridge mix of friends."

Quinn took two more enormous swallows and smiled, "Please tell me you're going to categorize your friends by nut type now."

"Only if you find that sexy."

Quinn blushed again and lowered her eyes, "As pathetic as it sounds, I probably would." She

looked up into Rachel's eyes, "You got it like that…and I…actually just used that phrase which means…" she glanced—then stared—as she tapped her empty glass with a finger and smacked her forehead with her other hand, "wine-cooler-girl needs to slow down."

She placed the glass on the table and took Rachel's free hand, "Tell you what—you can bring yours and sip it like the wine it is instead of power-slamming it like the Gatorade it isn't and we'll go in the sitting room. I have something for you."

Rachel smiled kindly at the rueful look on the Quinn's face. "It was a glass of champagne, not a liter of vodka. But yes, you should take me to any and all presents."

She allowed Quinn to lead her into the sitting room, where they took a seat on the couch.

Rachel raised her glass to her lips, turned it up and emptied it before winking as she placed it on the table, "There we go. No need for just one of us to feel indecorous. Now we're even."

"And so it was, in the fullness of time, that the word decorous came back to haunt them."

"So it did but it's a huge step forward from decorous to indecorous, don't you think?"

Quinn smiled, "I do."

"I think you should kiss me in order to ratify this amendment to our vocabulary."

"You do realize we're still talking too much, don't you?"

"Yes. Hence the suggestion of kissing."

"Right."

As Quinn slid closer to her, Rachel pulled away slightly, "And I do mean I want _you_ to kiss _me_, Quinn. Not the other way around."

Quinn glanced from Rachel's eyes to her mouth and then back, "I love your mouth."

"Show me," Rachel whispered. She felt the air leaving her lungs as Quinn leaned forward because surely it was the champagne that made those hazel eyes so suddenly large and those slightly parted lips so disturbingly close and radiating a heat that seemed to eclipse her senses. She closed her eyes in anticipation but was dismayed to feel the heat dissipating. She opened her eyes to find Quinn had pulled away.

"This is highly irregular, Quinn. Are you teasing me?"

"Me? Tease you? Never. But before I kiss you, I'm giving you your present."

Rachel immediately sat at full attention.

Quinn reached behind a throw pillow on her side of the couch, "I hope you're noting how skillfully I stage-managed you into sitting in the correct position for this presentation."

"Yes. I'm agog with admiration but less talk, more present, please."

Quinn opened her hand, revealing a small closed box in her palm. "This might seem familiar because I cribbed the idea from you."

Rachel's eyes widened as she gazed at the box in loving recognition, "Should I open it or should you?"

"Me, I think, " Quinn replied as she opened the box and removed a ring. "As you can see, this is a Claddagh ring exactly like yours. I didn't want this evening to really begin until I'd pledged myself to you as you've pledged yourself to me."

She put the ring in Rachel's left palm. "Please place this ring on my finger, Rachel, if you'll do me the honor of accepting my undying friendship, my complete and consuming love for you and my absolute fidelity to you."

Rachel felt tears welling in her eyes and she ran the forefinger of her right hand over the ring, "Wow." She looked up into Quinn's eyes, "_Really_? You're…_really?_"

"Giving myself to you? Absolutely. I can't believe you'd doubt it."

"I don't mean to," Rachel said as she quickly wiped her eyes, "It's just…a really…big gift. What it represents, I mean, is big. Not the ring itself, of course, because you have relatively small hands and I'm sure you've had the ring sized so, although figuratively enormous, it's not as if it's _literally_ too big and...I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"You sure are." Quinn agreed as she smiled sweetly at her girlfriend's anxious expression. In the few seconds it took for that anxiety to truly register, her smile vanished as she whispered, "_Oh_. Oh wow."

Alarmed by the look on Quinn's face, Rachel leaned forward and put a hand on her arm, "What's wrong? Oh wow what?"

Quinn pulled sharply away and snapped, "I get it, okay? It's totally cool if you don't want the ring. Let's just forget I asked."

Rachel's mouth dropped open and she shook her head in astonishment before snapping, "Don't _want_ it? How could you even think that? You're talking to a girl who just spent two hours choosing a stupid outfit while wondering how fast she could politely take it off without making you think she was only after one thing."

Quinn shrugged and said quietly but dismissively while staring at her own hands, "Well, that was idiotic of me. Here I thought we were talking about feelings and a ring. But whatever. That was a pretty ham-fisted segue if you only want to talk about sex, Rachel. I already know you want me. Lots of people do."

Because Quinn's words felt like a hard and unexpected slap, it was only with tremendous effort that Rachel forced herself not to rise to them. She counted to five and made her voice far gentler than she felt, "Where did _that_ come from?"

No answer.

"I'm speaking to you, Quinn, and you're going to answer. Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"

"No."

Rachel waited a few seconds but when nothing more was forthcoming, she continued. "I see. No. Full stop. That's certainly…concise. So. I'll take you at your _one_ word. If you're not trying to provoke me with some fairly outrageous nonsense, what exactly are you doing?"

For a few moments, Rachel watched as Quinn frowned at the floor and began to shift under her gaze with distinct discomfort. She softened her tone to take the sting out of her words, "Before you answer that, if you even can, I'll tell you one thing. Of _course_ I want your ring, baby, and everything it represents. Of course I do. But you didn't even give me a few seconds to take it all in before you became Quinn Fabray, Jumper to Conclusions."

"_You_ needed time? What about me? _I_ didn't get any time, did I?" Quinn responded instantly, a thunderous pout on her face as she crossed her arms defiantly over her chest, "But that didn't matter because I didn't need any. I jumped to say yes to _your_ ring. And I was in a _car_. After therapy. With no warning. And definitely no champagne."

Witnessing this astonishing display of petulance explained one hell of a lot to Rachel and reminded her that she and Quinn were still two very young women. The prospect of sexual involvement wasn't, evidently, conferring any new magical level of maturity upon them. She sighed before asking, "Are you finished?"

Quinn nodded sulkily.

"I'm sorry I didn't accept your ring as quickly as you needed for me to, Quinn. I'm sorry if my hesitance hurt your feelings because that certainly wasn't my intention. I hesitated only because I felt unworthy to accept such a gift from you, not because I didn't want it."

Quinn looked up into enormously sad brown eyes and immediately realized that while Rachel had felt insecure and had merely hesitated, _she'd _felt insecure and had inflicted pain because she'd wanted to and could. Again. The blood abruptly left her extremities as an all-too-familiar wave of icy guilt crashed over her.

She closed her eyes as the wave of guilt was followed with a completely white-hot and inchoate rage that made her ears literally ring—rage directed at herself and at God, who'd evidently created her solely for the purpose of eternally fucking up with the person she loved most in the world.

She heard someone speak who sounded like Rachel, although the voice seemed oddly distant, "Don't do that, Quinn. I won't allow it."

Quinn's opened her eyes and looked into Rachel's. Her own voice sounded just as distant to her ears, "Did you say something?"

Rachel tilted her head quizzically but replied, "Yes. Do I need to repeat it?"

Quinn shook her head, "No. You said you wouldn't…won't allow what?"

Rachel waved her hand between them, "This. Where you're going with this and what you're doing to yourself right now. The distance you're putting between us. We are _not_ allowing our insecurities to ruin our evening. Naturally, because you fully intended to hurt me with what you said a few moments ago, I expect you to apologize but I'm going to forgive you once you do so don't worry. I only stress this because I can see by the expression on your face that your emotional airplane is stalling and about to go into a downward guilt spiral. Please remember that all pilots train in recovering from stalls so that when they encounter them, they can react as if they're almost _de rigueur_ rather than disasters. Stalls are occasionally an unavoidable part of the flying experience."

A lump rose slowly rose in Quinn's throat as she listened. What would once have intensely irritated her—the sound of Rachel's rambling, slightly pedantic and abstruse aviation/relationship analogy—instead gently grounded her, pulling her back to the safety and warmth of the familiar. She felt like bursting into tears at the wonder of being able to extend her hand and knowing Rachel would accept it.

Yes, of course Rachel took her hand, with an amiable smile and the words, "Apologize, Quinn."

"Absolutely. I'm very sorry, Rachel, for lashing out at you. What I said was incredibly stupid and completely uncalled for, the more so because I truly didn't mean a word of it."

"Thank you. I agree. And don't forget your outburst was based on spurious suppositions. From here on out, I believe it would be a good idea for both of us to ask what the other means or feels before making assumptions or jumping to conclusions. I know we will never be perfect because my dads still do it after decades together but can we at least agree to try?"

Quinn nodded vigorously.

"Good. I forgive you. However, you did bring up an issue I don't feel I should ignore. I'm not apologizing for having made it abundantly clear I'm sexually attracted to you but I should probably tell you I really don't need your reminding me that other people are as well. We've talked about your insecurity concerning me but I have my insecurity, too, and to be honest, it's the reason I hesitated over your ring."

At the look in Quinn's eyes, Rachel hastened to add, "A ring I'm going to put on your finger if the offer's still open after I explain myself."

Quinn forced a smile and squeezed Rachel's hand. "So the ring idea's still up for a debate and we're all systems go for more anxiety-inducing conversation. O_kay_. On that note, I think we need more alcohol—excuse me—champagne."

"Champagne would be lovely but I can assure you that both your anxiety and your sarcasm are unnecessary."

"Got it. Sorry."

"Don't be. No more apologies tonight. Get the champagne and I'll text my dads I arrived safely."

"Mom will have told them we're locked in."

"I know but I'm sure they'd appreciate the personal touch."

"Your call. Literally. Be right back."

Rachel went to the foyer, retrieved her phone from her overnight and quickly texted her fathers, then opened a blinking message in her inbox:

**Santana Lopez: If you're reading this before Saturday, you're on the phone when you shouldn't be and that means you're in trouble**

**Santana Lopez: Here's what you do. And I hope you're feelin' my super powers because I don't even need to watch the game to know the score**

**Santana Lopez: Ignore the lame-ass fight Q's bound to pick with you. That's just her so deal with it. But YOU? I swear before God…**

**Santana Lopez: If I hear you delayed or interrupted prime sex-time to talk about some sort of bullshit 'issues' with my cap, I will punch you right in that nose. Hard**

**Santana Lopez: 'Cause word to the unwise—meaning you? If you overshare, she'll join you on your Good Ship Anxiety but heya? Remember SHE doesn't like hearing herself talk**

**Santana Lopez: So, since you've obvs never heard the idiom, 'least said, soonest mended,' I'll paraphrase it for ya—'SHUT THE FUCK UP, Rachel, and get in bed' **

**Santana Lopez: B's here and she agrees with me**

**Santana Lopez: ETA she says she wouldn't say it like that or punch you but she agrees**

**Santana Lopez: Is there a reason you're still on the phone reading this, short-stack? **

**Santana Lopez: Yeah. I didn't think so**

Rachel frowned in contemplation as she turned her phone off. When she rejoined Quinn in the sitting room, she was amused to see that not only were the champagne flutes on the table but the poor girl had brought the bottle, too.

She sat right next to Quinn and bumped her shoulder with her own. "Hi you."

Quinn bumped her back, "Hi Rachel. All texted?"

"I am. And let's please start over."

"You want a reset? Okay. At what point? The abortive ring or the aborted fight?"

"Well…when you put it like that…" Rachel poked out her lower lip, "I'm sorry."

"One? Like you said, no more apologies. Two? Don't use that lip with me."

"I thought you love my mouth."

"I do love your mouth but when you combine that anime eye thing with the boo-boo lip, it's a little unfair."

"Anime eye? That's perilously close to commenting on the size of my head."

"No, that's flat-out saying you have enormous eyes and know how to use them."

Rachel kissed Quinn's cheek, "Thank you! I've been practicing forever."

Quinn dipped down to kiss Rachel's shoulder, "You said you wanted to talk—I'm listening."

"I know it won't disappoint you if I tell you I don't really need to _talk _talk. I only have one sort of nebulous thing to say. When I gave you my ring, I did feel confident you'd accept my wearing it. Obviously, tonight you didn't feel as confident about your ring and, given my reaction, maybe you were right."

She placed a hand on Quinn's thigh, her face very earnest, "But right up front, it's not because I don't want it because I do. And it's not something stupid like being worried about wearing matching rings in school because I don't care about that. Of course _I'd_ want to wear a ring acknowledging who you are to me but it's mind-altering to me that anyone—much less and especially you—would want to acknowledge me that way. Maybe you don't understand this, Quinn, but I'm more star-struck by you than anyone I could ever meet."

The blonde raised an eyebrow, "You sure you're not mistaking being frightened of me for that feeling?"

"Very sure, because I can easily remember being frightened _and_ star-struck."

"Oh great," Quinn groaned, "so where does that leave us now?"

"Not us. Me. It leaves me getting over myself and not making problems where there aren't any." She beamed as she continued; "It also leaves me tremendously excited because I've never had the opportunity or desire to put a ring on it. Now I have both! Right hand, please."

Quinn grinned and ran her left hand through her hair as she held out her right.

Rachel kissed the ring in her hand, then slid it onto Quinn's finger, "With this ring and with profound amazement and gratitude, I accept the gifts of your friendship, your heart and your fidelity. When you look at the ring on your hand, I hope you'll always be as happy and proud to wear it as I am when I see yours."

Quinn stared at the ring as she held it at arm's length. "Thank you, Rachel. I am and I know I always will be. May I kiss you now?"

"Actually, I vote we take our rings, ourselves and the champagne upstairs."

* * *

When Quinn opened the door to her bedroom, she gave herself a mental high five for having bought the more expensive but longer burning candles. In fact, the extra time it'd taken to have a fight and make up had allowed the candles to burn to the point that they didn't look like a romantic affectation at all. She also vaguely wondered if what followed would now constitute make-up sex, then gave herself a desultory low five for recognizing internalized babbling when she heard it. She quickly crossed to place the champagne on her bedside table.

"The room looks beautiful, Quinn."

"Thank you, Rachel."

"You're very welcome and now, in terms of your list preparation, I believe undressing is next on our agenda."

"Well…that was the general idea but I don't want you to feel like it's a bulleted list—"

The sentence vanished when she turned and found Rachel already half undressed. "Oh my God. Rachel?"

"Quinn? I'm a PowerPoint goddess. I _love_ bulleted lists—they're like catnip to me." She placed her jeans on Quinn's desk chair, "Tell me the plot of your favorite children's book."

"_What_?"

Rachel pulled her sweater off, leaving her in a very sheer bra and panty set. She folded the sweater and repeated, "Tell me the plot of your favorite children's book while you're undressing. And by that I mean a little kid's book. You need something simple to think about and do beside ogling me as I fold clothes in my underwear."

Quinn blushed and lowered her eyes, "Oh my God. I'm—"

"_Not_ going to invoke the name of God again until I touch you and not sorry you're looking at me because you know I don't mind." She smiled at Quinn, "I'm sure that was what you were going to say, right?"

Quinn managed to return a wry half-smile, "A variation on that. I'm wondering—and no complaints, mind you—but what happened to Modest Mouse?"

"She's right here, bravely standing in her underwear while you remain curiously fully clothed. Although aesthetically-speaking, I'd call what I'm wearing lingerie. What do you think?"

"Lingerie. Definitely."

Rachel stared at her. "While I'll admit the wording of the sentence suggested I needed that specific clarification, it was actually my girlish, indirect way of asking you what you_ think_."

"You want to know what I—_oh_. Oh right." Quinn paused, transfixed by the sight of the lingerie in question now that she'd been asked to make a comment about it. "It's…you look amazing, Rachel."

She felt her stomach flip when the smaller girl reacted to this malnourished compliment with a salacious smirk, "Never mind but thank you for the look in your eyes. Now, tell me your book plot and get undressed and I'll tell you mine while I refold my clothes eleven or twelve times. Also, say goodbye to my lingerie because that's going, too."

Quinn unbuttoned her jeans as she looked Rachel over and said with a mocking sadness, "Farewell, lingerie—I hardly knew ye."

"Fabray from the top of the key! Three points for the arcane Irish song reference."

"Three points for basketball terminology. See? Dating Finn _is_ good for something and I'm good for something beside bitchiness and prudery."

"You're good for lots of things, some of which I'm sure we haven't discovered yet. Let's hear that book plot. No titles, please. I don't need that hyperlink to sex in my mind."

"Okay," Quinn slid her jeans off, "It's about an old fisherman with a creaky little boat who lives by himself with only a seagull for company. One day he goes out to sea and catches a whale by the tail. He takes the hook out and puts a band-aid with stripes or polka dots or something like that on his tail so they become insta-friends. "

She focused on the story as she removed her sweater, "A storm comes up and the whale swallows the boat, the man and the seagull to keep them safe. When the storm's over, the fisherman has to make the whale throw-up to get out of his stomach and after that, a pod of whales shows up and they all want band-aids on their tails so the fisherman puts them on. Britts could recite it for you verbatim because it's her favorite, too, because what's not to like, right? Cool band-aids and whales and whale vomit and," she finally looked at Rachel, "you're naked."

Rachel agreed. "I am." She crossed the few feet it took to stand in front of Quinn and put her hands on each side of the girl's waist, noting with fascination the immediate change in her girlfriend's breathing. "For the record what you're wearing is definitely lingerie. But as beautiful as this shade of green is _on_ you, right now all I want to do is take it off of you."

Quinn swallowed visibly, "You want to take it off?"

Rachel looked up at her from under her eyelashes, "I really do. May I?"

Quinn hesitated a fraction of a moment, then stood up straighter as she answered, "Of course."

Rachel moved closer, skimming her fingertips up Quinn's sides to the bra line, then slowly traced the bra around to the clasp. The only sign these actions were having any effect on Rachel herself was the fact her voice dropped half an octave, "My story's about a family and its pet capybara."

Soft, maddeningly warm fingers on her skin and a soft, lowered voice murmuring a complete non sequitur. Quinn shook her head to clear it and half-whispered "What's a capybara?"

The corners of Rachel's mouth turned upward as she deftly unclasped the bra, "It's a South American mammal—the world's largest rodent." Quinn shivered as Rachel's scorching hands moved over her bare back, then upwards over her shoulders, finally pulling the bra down and free of her arms.

Rachel tossed the bra on top of Quinn's sweater, then placed her hands on Quinn's hips. "A capybara's a wild animal but it could be described as an enormous, herbivorous semi-aquatic guinea pig."

Quinn had never imagined that the first time she'd felt such raw physical desire in the presence of a sublimely naked Rachel would be leavened with the desire to bark with laughter. She fought it for only seconds before chuckling affectionately, "I give up, Rach. I'll never underestimate you again. A woman who can bring sexy back with the phrase 'herbivorous semi-aquatic guinea pig' is a obviously a force to be reckoned with."

Rachel faux-scowled but slid her fingers under the sides of Quinn's panties, pulled her hands outward and slid them down Quinn's legs. "It's a story about a family who take in a creature who's charming and funny and delightful." She kissed each of Quinn's knees in turn as she helped her step out of the underwear, "But although they love him dearly, his very nature makes him ultimately unsuited for his environment and they have to give him up to a larger place." She smiled up at her, "It's bittersweet, in a sense, but it's mostly sweet."

Quinn returned the smile, tousled the girl's brown hair and took her hand as she stood. "I'll just tell you now, Rachel. No self-respecting herbivorous semi-aquatic guinea pig would ever have a nose job."

Rachel's eyes narrowed, "What makes you think I'd extrapolate from a capybara's story to my own?"

"By that you mean you didn't?"

Rachel hesitated, then stamped her foot. "_Fine_. But if you tell Santana about this, I won't be responsible for what I'll do."

"I promise I won't. She wouldn't believe it, anyway."

"She would too! And she'd laugh at me!"

"No she wouldn't, sweetheart. I'd beat her up if she tried, plus there's nothing inherently funny about identifying with the world's largest rodent."

Rachel turned with a flounce and pulled the bed covers down, "Get in the bed right this second before I change my mind."

Quinn's look of shock was so comical that Rachel snorted, "Ha! You forgot we were naked, didn't you?"

Quinn's glanced from Rachel to the candles to the rest of the room she'd actually forgotten was a scene of seduction, "I _did_. How'd that happen?"

"Because I am a Golden God."

"I didn't forget _that_."

"Lie down in the bed, Quinn. On your back."

With just those words, Quinn's levity was gone but she did as she was told. She didn't have even enough time to relish the anxiety she knew would follow before Rachel dumbfounded her by following more quickly. In the space of seconds, Rachel was straddling her, seated right beneath her belly button. Quinn raised her hands halfway, then left them suspended in air like a conductor poised to start a symphony. "What are you doing?"

Rachel focused her attention solely on Quinn's face. Her expression was kind and sweet, "I'm sitting on you, silly. I've sat on you lots of times."

Strictly speaking, Quinn admitted to herself, this was true. Rachel enjoyed the occasional playful wrestle, the more so because Quinn always let her win and allowed her to sit on top of her as a sign of victory. Once, her mother had walked in on them in this position and it had taken Quinn's pointing out they were fully dressed and that Rachel was reading a history book to assure the woman that she hadn't interrupted something less innocent.

"You don't usually sit on me naked."

"True. But needs must, Quinn. You can rest your hands on me, if you want. Anywhere you want."

Without breaking eye contact, Quinn let her hands float down to a resting place on Rachel's thighs. When Rachel covered those hands with her own, Quinn gently pressed her nails into the darker skin and watched as her girlfriend pulled her lower lip between her teeth and closed her eyes. She gripped Quinn's hands and held them in place for a moment, then licked her lips and opened her eyes.

She tapped the blonde's hands almost as if to tell them 'see you later,' then languidly moved her hands downward. She brushed her fingers down the length of the juncture of her thighs and Quinn's waist. Quinn shuddered as Rachel reversed her course and dragged the backs of her nails over same space with an exquisitely slow, troubling delicacy that almost itched as much as it pleased. After a minute of this repetition, which felt like an hour, she gripped Rachel's thighs firmly. Rachel acknowledged this with only a ghost of a smile but she didn't reply with the answering pressure Quinn wanted.

And she didn't stop but she did speak. "You know…you deserve this, Quinn. You deserve it because you've been doing this to me for a long, long time."

Quinn's voice was raspy, "Doing what?"

Rachel smiled a lazy smile and answered, "Teasing me," even as she stopped and covered Quinn's hands with her own again. "And I don't mean teasing me as in making fun of me although you've done that, too."

Her eyes were enormous, dark and luminous with desire. "You don't even have to touch me, you know. All you have to do is look at me…or speak to me…and I feel it so deeply I melt. I always have, Quinn. Even when I was frightened of you and especially now that I'm not. I melt." Her voice lowered again, "You can feel it on your skin, can't you?"

Despite the situation, naked in bed with a naked woman for a very specific reason, _this_ question made Quinn blush. "Of course I can…and I think you really need to kiss me now."

Rachel reached up and ran a thumb over Quinn's lips, "Yes. I do. Can I lie down next to you?"

"Absolutely, since you've already topped me. I was thinking it'd take you at least a few minutes but it only took a few seconds." Quinn looked up at Rachel with a sort of dull horror, completely unable to believe what had just come out of her mouth.

Rachel tilted her head and stared back at Quinn. She was silent and expressionless as she swung off Quinn's midsection, positioned herself on her side lengthwise and then propped herself up on one elbow. When she spoke, however, her tone was surprisingly pleasant, "Put your arm through here, baby, beneath my arm. That way you can hold me."

Quinn quickly did as directed and Rachel pulled the bed sheet over and up so that it half-covered them. She flung a leg over both of Quinn's thighs and rested her free arm on the girl's chest, effectively pinning her. The position might have been delicious, Quinn thought, wrapping her arm tentatively around Rachel's back, resting her hand on her girl's soft, warm hip. As it was, Rachel had propped her head on her hand and was looking down at her. She had only to turn her own face, which she did, to be nearly nose-to-nose.

"What's Santana been telling you?"

Quinn, when shocked, always bluffed, "What do you mean?"

"You should know by now that 'what do you mean' thing never works with me but I'll play along. We're talking about me. Topping you. Obviously that's a sexual concept you could think of yourself but the free and easy way you just expressed it, not to mention the bad timing—that was pure Santana."

Busted. Years of dealing with Sue Sylvester allowed Quinn to keep a game face but this was certainly a fucking quandary. Was this an inference based on just knowing San and listening to her talk smack or had Santana actually talked to Rachel about sex and, more particularly, about how Rachel might act in bed? She felt her body flush at the thought of this, and not in a good way.

Naturally, Rachel noticed. "Oh for goodness sake, Quinn."

"What?"

"This is ridiculous enough without adding jealousy to it. Santana didn't give me the big-girl talk about being a top—Brittany did."

Quinn gaped. "_My_ Brittany? No she didn't!"

"Oh, believe me she did. In a fully Brittany sort of way."

"Oh my God."

"Yes, God's on your speed-dial tonight. But Santana said the same thing about me to you, didn't she?"

Quinn hesitated for a moment and then nodded. "If it makes you feel any better, her advice was a compliment to you in a fully Santana sort of way. To paraphrase and summarize, she said I didn't have to worry about what I understood her to mean would be my predictably manifest failings as a lover. She assured me that you'd be enough of a top and sexual wunderkind for both of us."

Rachel looked not just dumbfounded at this but something more…furtive, something Quinn read like a neon sign. "No way. Is that what Brittany said, too?"

"No!"

"Because seriously? When Britts says you'll suck at something, the world's ending."

"She didn't say you'd suck, Quinn. She said she thought you'd be more nervous than I would be."

"But _you're_ the virgin."

"Thank you! So imagine my surprise being called out as a top by your friends."

"Actually, Rach, if they're meddling in your sex life, I think that means they're your friends, too."

"A sex life I'm achingly aware I don't even have yet, thank you very much."

"Hey, nobody's stopping you here—least of all me."

Rachel held up an index finger, "Pay attention, Fabray."

"Sorry. All ears—or eyes—whatever you need."

"I'm disgruntled."

"With me?"

"Of course not. With _them_."

Quinn raised an eyebrow, "Okay. Disgruntled how? As in slightly peeved or borderline angry?"

Rachel plonked her forehead down between the Quinn's breasts, which left the blonde girl feeling as much as hearing the muffled answer, "You'll think it's dumb."

Quinn ran her fingers through Rachel's soft hair, "Bet you I won't."

Rachel lifted her head, "You smell fantastic."

"Thank you, angel."

"You're welcome." She propped her head back up on one hand and reached under the sheet with the other to trace soft circles on Quinn's stomach. "I suppose it boils down to the fact that although I know their intentions are good and some of their advice is reasonable, I ultimately don't appreciate the larger implications of what they're saying."

"What do you think they're implying?"

Rachel's expression was rueful, "This is the part that sounds really high school."

"There's a reason for that."

"I know, I know. It's the way Brittany and Santana talk to me about you sometimes. It's like they think they've known you longer than I have or better than I do, when that's not true."

"I take your point, Rachel, but to play devil's advocate, which is entirely appropriate for S if not for B, they're probably starting from the premise they know me in a different way than you do. That _is_ true."

"I'll grant you that. I'll grant them that. What irritates me is what they don't grant me—or you. We also know each other in a different way than they know either of us. I resent their telling us how you'll be with me and how I'll be with you and making us more self-conscious than we need to be. And don't say you're not paying it any attention because you clearly are or you wouldn't joke about it."

Quinn stared at Rachel for a long moment, "I'm not discounting or doubting you, sweetie, but I know Brittany couldn't have said anything to upset you. That leaves San. What'd she say to you?"

"I didn't say I was upset."

"I know you didn't. But you sound a little upset. What'd she say?"

"If I tell you, you can't repeat it."

"Promise."

Rachel looked very sheepish as she spoke. "She sort of warned me that I had to be careful with you…because I'm a sexual velociraptor."

Quinn blinked for a few seconds before finding an answer to that, "I'm not even…I just heard that correctly, didn't I?"

Rachel nodded.

"I don't want to put too fine a point on it, Rach, but the very last thing on Earth I'd call you right now is a sexual velociraptor. That said, I'm going to take your advice and not jump to any conclusions. Will you explain why that upset you?"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? Why does she think _I'd_ be the velociraptor?" Rachel blushed to the roots of her hair. "It could just as easily be you."

Utterly flummoxed, Quinn was relieved to see that Rachel's embarrassment made an immediate answer unnecessary. She considered her girlfriend's scarlet face, the surreal switchback their conversation had just taken and took what she considered a deeply illogical leap that was probably correct. "Are you…maybe saying you might prefer it if I were the velociraptor?"

Rachel worried her lower lip with her teeth before answering, "I wouldn't exactly put it like _that_. I know you'll always be loving with me but I have to admit I've been concerned that our shared history of antagonism might inhibit you from giving expression to certain parts of your personality out of deference to my feelings."

_Jesus, that sentence was a mouthful_, Quinn thought, even as she embraced the absurdity of knowing she'd still answer _quid pro quo_.

"First of all, let's be fair, Rachel. San and Britts could talk a blue streak but if we were self-assured and didn't agree with them, we'd just call bullshit and call it a day. Since we weren't and didn't, that's on us. But let's see if I'm following the rest of the plot. When they implied I'd be Caspar Milquetoast in bed, you thought about it—probably too much—and decided it was possible or even probable I might act more passively with you than normal because of my guilt for having bullied you. Is that it?"

"Yes. Exactly."

"Okay. Should I infer from your concern that you'd prefer I not be passive with you?"

"Not necessarily. I'm only saying I'd prefer you express yourself without undue deference to our past relationship."

"Which means what exactly?" Quinn struggled to keep exasperation out of her voice, finding the topic embarrassing enough without drawing it out rhetorically. "Could we please just talk like humans for a minute?"

Rachel didn't make any struggle not to sound waspish. "Frankly, I wasn't aware that we weren't."

Quinn asked the air above her, "Am I in hell?"

At that, Rachel lowered her chin and burst into tears.

Quinn was mortified. She pulled Rachel tightly to her by the waist, stroking her face with her free hand, "Shh, sweetheart. I didn't mean that. Not at all. I'm just really, really frustrated because we're not…communicating. I'm so sorry. Please, please don't cry. I was being stupid. You know I'd never hurt you on purpose, don't you?"

Rachel sniffed mightily, wiped her tears as she nodded and raised her chin, "I should have done a PowerPoint."

Quinn helped wipe errant tears from her face and said softly, "You didn't do a PowerPoint for tonight, sweetie?"

Rachel shook her head mournfully. "I liked yours. I didn't think I needed one."

"Aw, see? That explains everything. You decided to fly by the seat of your pants and didn't take into consideration you wouldn't be wearing any. Rookie mistake. No harm, no foul, angel."

Rachel rested her head on Quinn's collarbone and continued to sniffle, "I ruined our night. Santana told me I would if I talked too much."

"You know what? Britts is off limits but fuck a bunch of Santana. You're totally right—they don't know us like we know us. Our night's not ruined at all, sweetheart. We like to talk and people who don't—they don't know what they're missing. I'll just light some new candles, we'll go have dinner and come back up. No worries."

"Really?"

"Really."

Rachel brightened immediately, "Thank you, Quinn."

"No no. From where I'm sitting or lying rather, I should be thanking you for putting up with me. I've been the big mouth tonight."

"Don't say that—it's been fairly mutual. I'm just glad we're okay—_so_ glad because Brittany really did have a wonderful suggestion."

"It didn't involve a cheer pyramid, did it?"

"What?"

"Nothing. What'd she say?"

Rachel pounced like a tiny Jewish panther and Quinn found herself flat on her back with her very naked girlfriend directly on top of her. She stifled a moan as her mind caught up with her body, registering the warm, soft weight of the body on hers. She ran her hands down Rachel's back, "I gotta say—three cheers for Britts."

"Did I hear three Cheerios? My favorite." Rachel pecked each of Quinn's cheeks. "But this idea's all mine, thank you." She smiled and leaned forward to whisper in Quinn's ear but what she intended to say was forgotten as the delicious friction between their bodies made her sharply inhale instead, then exhale a soft, unbidden, "Ffffuck, Quinn."

Quinn eyelids fluttered at the sound and the breath in her ear. Her voice quavered, "Please, Rachel. Please kiss me."

Within seconds, every thought in Quinn's mind had vanished, swept away by the feeling of Rachel's hot, wet, relentless and demanding mouth. Rachel kissed her so forcefully and deeply and for so long that Quinn finally just gave up and dropped her hands to the bed, lost in the sensation of it. She had no real sense of time but she knew Rachel wasn't going to give her a conclusion, that this surrender was going to be the only point—opening herself completely so that Rachel could have her, so that Rachel could fill her.

She didn't know she was making any sound at all until her moaning abruptly ended with a cry as Rachel pulled away from her and sat up. She blinked and focused her eyes on Rachel's face, her kiss-bruised lips. "Where are you going?"

Rachel looked her over slowly, "I am _going_ to do to your body what I just did to your mouth. Any questions?"

At this pronouncement, Quinn felt so weak in the knees she was grateful she was lying down but Rachel had asked her a question so she answered it. Her voice sounded hoarse, "Did you want to tell me Brittany's suggestion?"

"You seriously want to talk about that now?"

"Not even remotely. But you said you wanted to. I love you, Rachel, and I want to be the one who'll always stop everything, no matter what, to listen to you." She smiled shyly, "Even if stopping everything's really painful."

"That's sweet, baby, but I don't think I'll be needing Brittany's advice—or Santana's for that matter." She winked at Quinn, "I think I've got this."

"What's this?"

Rachel raised her eyebrows.

"_Oh_. _This_ as in _me_?"

"Yes. This. In you."

"Rachel!"

Rachel laughed and sang with swag and a smirk, "I'm bringin' sexy back. Them other fuckers don't know how to act."

Quinn could only agree, "Yeah!"

* * *

**Later…**

"You look like you just won Nationals all by yourself."

Quinn was flat on her back looking up at Rachel, who was wrapped around her with her head propped again in her hand.

"Then I don't look even half as happy as I feel."

Quinn couldn't resist, "I wasn't talking about the happy—I was talking about the triumphant with a dash of the smug."

Rachel's eyes narrowed and she swatted Quinn on the stomach, "What some people call smug, I call a justifiable pride in my performance and if you're saying triumph doesn't look good on me, I suppose I'm in for a lifetime of metaphorical bad hair days."

"And now I want to have sex with you again. C'mere—you've made me too weak to move, Triumph Dog."

"I resent being likened to an canine insult puppet."

Quinn lifted up enough to kiss Rachel's nose. "You'll get over it, tiny, and take it from the audience in question. You have every right to feel proud of your performance."

Rachel winced at this. "I know you're teasing me, Quinn. Sort of. But don't, okay? It would hurt my feelings if you really believed I thought of making love with you as a performance I wanted applause for."

"Rachel, no. I'm—"

"Please don't apologize because I'm sure I'm being too sensitive. Just know my only hope for tonight was that I could express even the tiniest part of how dearly and passionately I love you. If I accomplished that, then yes, I am proud and happy. Loving you isn't musical theater for me, Quinn." She slid closer and smiled, "However…if you're going to make the analogy, you're shooting low with Nationals. It's more like winning a Tony."

With that lighter tone, Quinn could hear Rachel letting her off an emotional hook. She decided to stay on it. She reached out, cupped the girl's cheek and sighed contentedly looking into warm brown eyes. "Rachel. When you love me—because you love me—I feel loveable, and I've never felt loveable in my life. You double that miracle by making me almost imagine I deserve it. A performance is something you do. What you give me is something you are. I know the difference, angel."

Rachel kissed Quinn tenderly, wrapped herself around her body and snuggled into her neck.

Quinn hugged and held her but said, "Don't get too comfortable, you. We're not finished yet."

Rachel mumbled, "No worries. I'm up for sex. It's just all this talking, Quinn. It's exhausting."

Quinn's eyes popped wide and her mouth dropped open in disbelief at this…this…sheer effrontery. She was glad Rachel couldn't see her face.

Rachel chuckled into Quinn's neck, "I bet you're thinking I have some nerve to complain about talking, aren't you?"

"Sort of. I went for effrontery, though."

Rachel snickered, "Effrontery? _Sweet_."

Quinn grinned at the ceiling, "Yeah, whatever."

"See? That's the sort of talk that'll take us places, Quinn."

"On that note, smart-ass, answer one question and then we stop talking. Deal?"

"Deal."

"As the more experienced lover of we two, do you have any advice?"

"No."

"Good." Quinn flipped Rachel on her back with ease, covered her body with her own and whispered in her ear. "I'll take you…at your _one_ word."

* * *

Within minutes, Rachel was certain she was in over her head. Quinn had told her how she felt about her. So she had known, or thought she had. She'd even thought she'd known how she'd react. It was very different in the flesh, when it was being written on her body.

Quinn touched her very gently, as if she were her most precious and delicate beloved. She touched her desperately, graspingly, as if someone were going to take Rachel away and this would be the one time she'd ever have her. She touched her angrily and jealously, as if Rachel had somehow agreed to leave her and needed punishing for not knowing where she belonged. It was scary for Rachel how very clearly all-at-once those emotions were for Quinn and it was scarier that she could feel Quinn reining herself in, holding herself back from doing who knew what. It was scariest of all that even her own fervent imagination hadn't prepared her for how erotic it would be.

It seemed like both forever and far too short a time before Quinn led her to the place they'd always been going. Quinn's face was only inches away from hers and Rachel gripped the straining muscles in the girl's back. Looking up into wild hazel eyes, Rachel saw the pupils were completely blown with love and need and fear and anger. Still Quinn held back, looked at her, and asked a wordless question.

With that question, Rachel's breathing stopped as a jolt of cold adrenaline coursed through her. This wasn't just a high school romance and she wasn't just losing her virginity to her sweet first love. It couldn't be that for them. This was real. If her answer was yes, she was giving something to a person who truly couldn't bear to have it taken back. If her answer was yes, she was jumping off a cliff and it wouldn't be fair it were not forever. It wasn't a question she should even entertain answering at sixteen and she knew it. She refocused on Quinn and could see the girl knew what she was thinking, saw that she expected a no, saw she'd still love her if she said no. And just like that, because she was Rachel Barbra Berry and could say no if she wanted to, she whispered, "Yes."

She closed her eyes and in one moment, the edge of the cliff was gone, leaving her clawing for safety. It took another moment to realize she'd scratched her way down Quinn's back. Her eyes flew open as she jerked her hands away but her apology died in her throat when she saw the feral look in Quinn's eyes. And then Quinn wasn't necessarily all that gentle with her. Rachel discovered she'd never necessarily wanted her to be.

* * *

Later…

After Rachel had lain on her back catching her breath for a minute, she opened her eyes and turned toward Quinn, who was sitting crossed-legged on the bed watching her. The candlelight filtered through her blonde hair created a halo around her face and Rachel laughed.

"What's funny, Ms. Berry?"

"I opened my eyes to find my demon lover and, lo, an angelic cheerleader had taken her place."

"Angelic," Quinn snorted, "Right."

"Why are you way over there? Did you not want to snuggle with me, baby?"

"I'm right here and…I didn't know if demon lovers got to snuggle. I guess I thought I should give you some space and check in with you first."

Rachel sat up lazily, "I think this is the part where you imagine you were too real and rough with me or that you hurt me physically or emotionally, right?"

Quinn pulled the sheet over her legs, "Maybe."

"Well, guess what? You didn't on all accounts. However, I did hurt you—let me have a look."

"Don't worry about it, Rach."

Rachel ignored this and sat up, knee-walked on the bed to inspect Quinn's back and gasped when she saw it. "Oh…my…I was so _sure_ my nails were lesbian length."

Quinn barked out a laugh, "Really?"

"Of course I did. I didn't want to hurt you. Is the expression 'fat load of good that did me' right?"

"Yes, but take some credit. Your nails didn't hurt me where it really counts."

"Your back counts, too, and I broke the skin in four places. I think we need to disinfect them right away."

Quinn took one look at Rachel's worried face and said, "We'll err on the side of caution rather than texting our daddy, okay?"

Rachel kicked her foot in the bed, "I wouldn't do that."

"Oh yes you would, Rachel Berry, and I can't help but notice this has to be some sort of record for your little hooves. That's only the second time you've kicked one tonight."

Rachel scowled, "I was nervous. Follow me."

Rachel leapt out of bed and marched naked into the bathroom. Quinn grabbed a pair of sleeping shorts from her chest of drawers, put them on and joined her.

Rachel was ready with hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls and gestured for Quinn to take a seat on the commode. She immediately began her nursing without mentioning Quinn's clothing.

She winced and Quinn hissed as the first cold cotton ball touched a scratch.

"Sorry, baby."

"Don't be. And may I say, although_ I'm _still shy, I wholeheartedly approve of your outfit?"

Rachel wet another cotton ball and shrugged. "You've been there, done that and got the t-shirt. There's really no point in modesty."

"What t-shirt? I totally didn't get a t-shirt. What's on it?"

Rachel didn't hesitate, "It reads 'I do Berry very well.'"

Quinn stared up at her, "I want that fucking t-shirt."

Rachel grinned, "Ooh. Dual uses of the word fucking—very nice."

Quinn, "Do you get a t-shirt?"

Rachel nodded, "Uh huh. It says 'My favorite flavor is quintessence.'"

"Aww, that's so sweet. A sexual pun using my name. You thought of everything."

* * *

The rest of the evening was easy, comfortable and blessedly free of anxiety or weighty conversation. They had a relaxed, laughter-filled dinner and they relaxed and were able to laugh as they made love a second and third time.

When they were finally down for the night, Quinn was spooning Rachel and fighting sleep when she heard a whispered, "Quinn? You awake?"

Quinn pulled Rachel closer, "Uh huh."

Rachel continued to whisper, "I just wanted to make sure you knew the rule before I fell asleep."

Quinn only whispered because Rachel had, "What rule?"

"I'm yours now. You made me yours, didn't you."

This was an assertion, not a question, and one that made Quinn's heart jump in her chest. She rested her cheek on the back of Rachel's head. "Yes."

Rachel pulled Quinn's hand up to her own heart and held it there, "Now that I'm yours, you have to keep me. That's the rule."

Quinn felt tears well in her eyes and kissed the back of Rachel's head. "That was the plan all along."

Quinn could hear the smile in Rachel's voice when she whispered her reply, "I thought so."

Long, quiet minutes passed and Quinn was about to drop off when she heard a far drowsier Rachel whisper, "Quinn? You awake?"

"Yes, Rachel."

"I wasn't really mad at Brittany and Santana."

"I know that."

"When mutants fall in love, sometimes humans have to help them."

"And now I know you're really sleepy, sweetie."

"Doesn't mean I'm not right. Love you, Quinn. 'Night."

"I love you."

Within seconds, Rachel had begun to snore and Quinn allowed herself to drift to sleep, feeling very nearly like the human she'd never thought she'd be.


	59. Chapter 59

**A/N: A shorter chapter. Many thanks to those who continue to read. I appreciate reviews/feedback and I apologize for my delay in responding.**

* * *

The next morning, after tossing and turning for nearly ninety minutes, Santana decided to just get up. When she reached for her phone, she discovered Brittany had pulled a yellow card on her while she was sleeping. She pawed at the bedside table, came up empty, then reached for her bag and scrounged through it.

"Whatcha looking for?"

Santana whispered, "My phone. Go back to sleep, B. It's early." "I know. But I can't. You're not-sleeping too loud to sleep." Brittany sat up a bit, reached under her pile of pillows, retrieved the phone and waved it, "Under here."

"Why's it there?"

Brittany shrugged and flopped back down on her pillows, "So you don't bother Quinn and Rach."

"I wasn't going to bother them."

"You totally were," Brittany replied to Santana and the ceiling, "Texting is bothering."

Santana chewed the inside of her cheek, "I wasn't going to text. I was just gonna check and see whether Q had texted _us_."

Brittany shook her head, "I looked. She didn't and Rach didn't. Either of us. That's weird…" she sniffed the air appreciatively, "_Mami _can't sleep either. I think she's making banana pancakes."

"She is. You said you wanted some Tuesday so I asked her to make them last night."

"Thanks, San." Before Brittany could kiss the girl, the phone in her hand surprised her by vibrating itself awake. Santana grabbed it and held it so both could read:

Quinn Fabray: No to brunch. Dunch here at 4, movie during/after if you and B want

Santana's eyebrows shot up and she glanced at Brittany before replying:

**Santana Lopez: You guys need a break already?**

**Quinn Fabray: No. **

**Santana Lopez: O…kay. Cranky?**

**Quinn Fabray: No.**

**Santana Lopez: Happy?**

**Quinn Fabray: Texting YOU this early THIS morning? Ecstatic**

**Santana Lopez: Gotcha. The midge wants dunch**

**Quinn Fabray: She does**

**Santana Lopez: And you're whipped already**

**Quinn Fabray: Rachel says to ask B**

**Santana Lopez: Avoidance much?**

**Quinn Fabray: Ask B much?**

**Santana Lopez: B's reading—says yes**

Quinn Fabray: Right. The VERB dunch? Keep it up and you'll feel it. Four o'clock. Not be-fore. Got it?

Brittany gave Santana's shoulder a 'toldja not to text' nudge with her own.

Santana Lopez: Got it Quinn Fabray: Thought so. Love to Britts

* * *

Quinn placed her phone on her bedside table. She and Rachel had only been awake for fifteen minutes but for a person of her slow-waking nature, the time had seemed rife with instruction and incident. Rachel had allowed five minutes of cuddling before firmly demanding a brushing of teeth and the performance of private bathroom necessities followed by texting.

Quinn had decided to focus on the smaller girl's having thoughtfully set her voice to 'inside morning' instead of 'stage' or 'stun.' It all seemed a very small price to pay when she could ease back into the bed to receive a naked and snugly Rachel before asking, "Tooth brushing and bathroom make sense, sweetie, but why did we invite them to dunch again?"

"Did you know I've never nexted anyone but you?"

That wasn't an answer but it was information. "Nexted in its usual meaning?"

"No!" Rachel pulled away enough to look into Quinn's eyes, her face glowing with pride, "I made up a new definition! Nexted—naked-texted."

"I _see_…yet apparently didn't, because I know I'd remember that. When'd you next me?"

Rachel play-slapped Quinn's stomach, "I didn't mean visually, silly. I meant I've nexted you after getting out of the shower or while I was changing. For everyone else, I always dress before I text."

Quinn tied the strings of those sentences together for a moment before asking, "You do…_know_ your phone and other people can't see you unless you want them to, don't you, Rachel?"

Rachel frowned at the tone of tolerant amusement in Quinn's voice. "I'll have you know that accidents of these sorts do happen and especially to people who live or hope to live their lives in the public eye. I would think you'd appreciate that I trusted it would be far less likely with you here to troubleshoot."

Quinn just looked at Rachel, and looked, and then she smiled because she really couldn't help herself. "I was about to say I'm not any more technically proficient with phones than you are but something about the expression on your little face makes me wonder if you have some sort of showbiz voodoo superstition going on in that noggin of yours."

Rachel kicked her foot in the bed. "I resent that."

"Fair enough, Rach, but I'm not the person thinking my phone can see me naked and show the world without my permission."

Rachel kicked her foot again, "Of course you're not!" She scoffed knowingly, "But that's because a phone wouldn't do that to _you_, would it? You're Quinn Fabray. It wouldn't _dare_." The very instant the words left her mouth, Rachel's brow furrowed because even she could hear how they had sounded. She sputtered a few seconds before drawing an obvious conclusion, "I did not say that."

Quinn had a rapidly growing mental storehouse of secretly savoured Rachel-isms and added this conversation to it as she shook her head to confirm she'd heard what Rachel had said about what she hadn't.

Rachel death-glared her to be doubly sure. "To return to the topic, I feel no particular anxiety or compunction in nexting Santana and Brittany. I'm sure they've done the same to us untold times."

"You should know nothing like that ever goes untold in Santanaville, sweetie. And that's located somewhere between Smallville and Margaritaville, in case you're wondering."

"Point taken, location noted and to answer your original question I'd bet you thought I'd forgotten, I have a short list of reasons for asking them to dunch."

"Of course you do. Let's hear them."

The smaller girl gave the tiniest wriggle of pleasure imaginable, an unconscious movement so entirely due to her excitement over having a willing listener to a list that not even her smoking hot nudity could mitigate how adorable it was.

"Obviously, they're our best friends and they'll want to know how we're doing so—"

Quinn winced, then interjected, "Okay—right there? Hold up." She very gently disentangled herself from Rachel. "We made love for the first time—we didn't have open-heart surgery." She sat up against the headboard, pulled one side of the sheet up over her and offered the other side to Rachel, who waved her hand no.

"It was a milestone for us as a couple but I don't think it's a situation so dire we need a house call or another glitter twin relationship prognosis report."

Rachel made her own prognosis about Quinn's tone and the turn this conversation was taking, "I didn't say it was dire or that we needed a house call, baby."

"And yet they are, at your behest, calling at my house at four, are they not?"

"They are. Why'd you agree to ask them if you didn't want them to come?"

"Because you wanted them to and you asked when I was half-awake."

"Are you fully awake now?"

"Nominally."

Rachel rolled her eyes and sat up in the bed to face Quinn. "I may be over-share girl and never-had-friends girl but three-people-joined-at-the-hip-girl? The girl who comes directly from the showroom with two life-sized standard features? That's all you. You've made an effort to accommodate and overlook my lack of boundaries and this is me returning the favor."

Quinn scowled and said to the pillow on the bed next to Rachel, "They're your friends, too."

"Thank you for explaining that."

"And thank you for being a smart-ass." Quinn looked up and into Rachel's eyes and raised one eyebrow. "Are you saying I don't have boundaries with S and B?"

Rachel's eyes widened immediately and almost comically. She made a 'hold that thought' hand gesture for Quinn even as she performed a hit-the-brakes-thought-stop on herself that kept her from replying, _Are you saying you do? _

She counted to five and continued, "We are _so_ not going there and I'm putting a gold star in my boundary calendar for this morning!"

Quinn crossed her arms over the sheet covering her, "I don't know whether that irritates or intrigues me."

"That I have a boundary calendar?"

"Please. I'd be shocked if you didn't. I meant your working on your boundaries while you're in bed with me."

Rachel only grinned and kept her eyes fixedly on Quinn's. So fixedly on her eyes and not her sheet-covered body that the coin finally dropped. Quinn snorted and said, "Touché," as she uncrossed her arms but kept the sheet.

Rachel ignored the word and the action, "How about irritrigued? Dating me, I'd imagine you feel that mixture of emotions all the time."

"One. That word dating? I know I'm being Possessivesaurus Rex but you've dated other people so _this_—" Quinn waved her hand between them—"isn't dating. _No me gusta_. And two, I'd never say you irritate me."

Rachel lifted an eyebrow.

"_Now_. I'd never say you irritate me now."

"I know you wouldn't but I would. I'm endeavouring to deepen my perception of how my words and actions affect others emotionally."

"While you're in bed with me," Quinn repeated.

"Where better?"

"I'm sure I don't know but I'm pretty sure I should feel vaguely…_something _about your inclination to work on this while you're in bed with me."

"You keep saying 'you're in bed with me.'

"Sure do and that's because if I were formatting this conversation, I'd make those five words bold, underlined and italicised."

Rachel swatted Quinn's thigh and smiled, "You're such a drama quinn."

Quinn tilted her head and watched with gratification as Rachel's skin gradually flushed a dusky red. "You know, Rach, that's so lamely obvious no one's ever used it on me. Have you been waiting a long time to say it?"

Rachel nodded, focused on picking at the sheet covering Quinn's foot and whispered, "It's sometimes seemed like forever."

"Was it worth the wait?"

Rachel shrugged sadly, "It was sort of funny, I thought," she looked up, "Didn't you?"

Quinn considered it just a little unfair that her body was so achingly aware of Rachel's arresting nudity when those enormous brown eyes, which were now focused on her with hopeful bashfulness, could so easily eclipse that vision.

What else could her answer be? "Yeah. It was a little funny, Rach."

Rachel's grin suggested she saw this for the lie it was. "See? You _do_ love me."

"Was there any doubt?"

"No—and thank you for that. I love you, too. That's the only reason I waited another forever for you to wake up this morning."

"You woke up early?"

"Of course I did. You know I have an internal elliptical alarm. I've been up nearly two hours."

"Jesus."

"Or _oy_. My mileage does vary."

"Sorry. Why didn't you wake me up, angel?"

"I realize I usually have in the past and I really wanted to but it was only 5:32 and my dad always told me that one of the best ways to show daddy we loved him was to let him sleep when we couldn't. So I thought I'd show you I loved you even if you weren't awake to know it!"

She smiled sweetly at Quinn and rattled on, "I will admit to you it was a tremendous test of will power. For thirty minutes of that time I pretended I was lying onstage after a magnificent death scene, listening as my leading man gave a stirring soliloquy about his grief at my untimely end. After performing this exercise, however, I will make it a future contractual stipulation that if I'm actually onstage, I'm never still for more than three minutes and that no one else can speak to me, at me or about me for more than two without my being able to answer back. This morning has taught me very specifically that if a playwright can't pen a pithier reaction to my stage death, he or she won't get Rachel Berry."

Quinn wasn't fazed by the fact that none of what Rachel said had fazed her. "Good one—and add the stipulations that I'm allowed to give a beat down to anyone trying to upstage you, including the playwright, and kick the leading man's ass up between his shoulder blades if you talk about him while you're in bed with me."

"And…we're back in bed. You certainly have a theme this morning, Quinn."

"I know right? I'm having my first morning after with the woman I love and you'd really think I'd at least be _trying_ to bring my A-game. But you'd be wrong. I'm lying here being all boring-slash-exasperating with my one-track mindedness about her—and bed. Nothing like my woman. She lies awake next to me thinking about our best friends and boundary calendars and theater performances and contracts and—"

"Quinn Fabray!" Rachel slapped both hands on the bed, "Don't you dare! I was trying to be nice by not waking you—for _hours_. What was I supposed to do all that time?"

Before Quinn could react to this or the accompanying death-glare that, for once, actually had some weight behind it, Rachel continued, "Wait-a-second. You know what? No. _I'll _tell _you _something. If you wanted someone who could lie next to you without thinking anything at all, why didn't you just keep Finn? I could safely bet all the money I'll ever earn that once you deigned to grace_ him _with your consciousness, _he_ wouldn't be the one who'd done enough forward-thinking to get your teeth brushed, the bathroom out of the way and Santana and Brittany sorted so that you two could…"

Rachel literally growled with vexation. "No! You don't even get—so don't—" Her eyes were as fierce as her tone, "Just…don't even!"

_Don't even?_ Now, Quinn was fazed. "I'm sorry for upsetting you, Rach, and I think I understand why but I have the feeling I missed a topic change. If I did, would you mind bushwhacking a little inroad back to that for me?" She offered Rachel a jaunty smile, hoping it would help.

It didn't. Rachel rolled her eyes scornfully before replying, "Yes, you're missing something and yes, I would mind. Even if you hadn't been such a gigantically smart-assed jerk about my multi-tasking, which you were—in a way that would hurt my feelings, which it did, I'd never want to be that girl, anyway."

Quinn couldn't deny the smart-assed, hurtful jerk part so she was left with a question she was completely sure was lame. "What girl?"

Rachel grabbed two fistfuls of her own hair but stopped abruptly before she pulled at them. She closed her eyes as she clutched her hair and took deep breaths through her nose, loudly exhaling them through her mouth.

When she finally opened her eyes, she tousled her hair gently with her hands and said smoothly, "What girl don't I want to be? The girl who has to say what I'm about to say."

She held up a hand, "In fact, I promised myself I wouldn't but when an immovable object meets an irresistible force, she has to make exceptions. You happen to be irresistible to me and I am _not_ going anywhere, so let's have some plain talk, shall we? You woke up wanting to fuck me, didn't you?"

Quinn's pale skin registered a ferocious blush more immediately than Rachel would have thought possible but she didn't give the girl time to answer, "To repeat myself, _don't even_. Don't even with some girly nonsense about wanting to make love. You want to fuck me, don't you?"

Quinn's mouth opened slightly as if she suddenly needed more air than she was getting but she didn't speak.

"Well?"

Quinn nodded.

"Fine. If you want to fuck me, Quinn, you should just fuck me. You don't need my permission to ask me. Just do it or ask for it and by_ it_, God help you if you don't understand I don't mean permission. I can't imagine not being in the mood while we're both naked and sixteen but I'll accept it as a possibility and say if I'm ever not, it shouldn't be an ego-killer. I'll always tell you the truth, give you a big kiss and a rain check and expect the same from you on the flipside. But—and you need to listen and hear this part, okay?"

Rachel pointed at Quinn, then waved her hand between them, "You need to nip this in the bud—this passive aggressive bullshit complaining about who and what I think about in bed. To quote you, _no me gusta_. In a big fat way _no me gusta_. If you're feeling sexually possessive—and let's face it, when aren't you? Instead of morphing into Captain Snark and bitch-peeing on me verbally, you now have a simpler, happier way you can address that issue. You can fuck me."

Quinn felt her mind unravel as Rachel relentlessly hammered her in a way that seemed so out of character it left her breathless.

"Understand I don't believe for a second we won't be making love on rainbows and rose petals most of the time but I know what I know and sometimes nothing's going to hit the spot for you quite like just claiming your territory. Executive summary? You _should_ act assuming it's my pleasure to serve you. You should _not_ be such a passive aggressive pussy that I'm forced to ask you to ask me to fuck because that's sort of what I'm having to do right now, if you're not taking notes. I never wanted to be the girl who topped from the bottom but when I'm onstage with someone who forgets her lines or fumbles, I'm going to take the fucking ball. That's my nature. Deal. But because it's you and _only_ for you—I'm giving the ball back. Got that?"

Quinn nodded again, feeling completely dumbfounded, terribly embarrassed, deeply amused and so violently turned-on she was beginning to see red.

"Good. You've got the ball so let's start over from the top. I've cleared your morning schedule, Quinn. You've brushed your teeth, used the bathroom and set up your afternoon meeting. Can I do anything else for you?"

They looked at each other for a very long time before Quinn pulled the sheet away from her body, leaving both of them exposed.

"Put your hair up in a pony."

Rachel smiled a very happy, lazy smile. "Gladly. But why's that?"

Quinn's smile was happy, lazy and wolfish, "Because I said so and because I want to watch the anything else you're going to do for me."

She watched Rachel lean forward, rummaging through her bedside table. "Plus you're so in trouble for talking smack to me."

Rachel said, "Really?"

Quinn said, "Not really."

At the same time.

Full stop.

"Quinn?"

"Rachel?"

"I'm going to need therapy to deal with this and don't be a pussy about my saying so."

Quinn met Rachel's eyes and bluffed for them both, "Whatever. But I swear to God if you call me a pussy one more time, heads will roll."

Rachel laughed.

Quinn snorted.

Rachel pulled her hair back, smirked and swatted Quinn's leg before she dutifully lowered her eyes.

Quinn smiled.

They understood each other.

* * *

**A/N: Two chapters in present time left. Three short chapters in epilogue. **

**ETA: My pal ScorpioP has pointed out that some of the dialogue in this is out of character. I completely agree. I believe you'll understand why in the next chapter. Hope so, anyway.  
**


	60. Chapter 60

**A/N: Disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**I apologize for the delay—the insane delay. I appreciate any readers who remain and always enjoy hearing from you. Thanks to ScorP and thanks to Tourist Season, who I don't know from Adam's house cat, as we say in the South, but she always makes me laugh.**

* * *

Rachel met Santana's burning gaze when she opened the door and didn't know exactly how she should be feeling. She'd never met a friend who absolutely knew she'd had sex the night before. She looked at her shoes even as Quinn said, "Hi, Britts," as she moved back a step to allow her guests entry, turned to Santana and said, "We're ordering pizza, bitch."

Santana gave Rachel a questioning second look before replying, "And here I was thinking etiquette was so last year."

"Whatever."

"Ooh. Another gem falls from your lips. Be still my lapidarian heart."

Brittany enveloped Rachel in a tight hug. "Being mean with big words is their way of hugging. Don't listen, Rach. I don't."

Rachel smiled into Brittany's sweatshirt, which smelled like maple syrup and her, and didn't let go. "I know that. We're surrounded, Brittany."

Brittany kissed the top of Rachel's head and winked at Quinn, "Right? Totally."

Quinn kissed Brittany on the cheek and punched Santana in the arm. Hard. "Dunch, fucker."

Santana looked down at her arm and back to Quinn. "Whatever."

Okay. Rachel felt it. Something was very wrong. Brittany suddenly gently manoeuvred herself so that Rachel was behind her. And that's when she realized the aggression of Quinn and Santana's normal way of interacting wasn't teasing this time and so much so that Brittany was protecting her from it. Her anxiety level, which was already extremely high, ratcheted up exponentially.

So she spoke up. "Everything's fine, Santana. I'm going back into therapy!"

Even as the words left her mouth, she understood that hadn't been perhaps the most placative thing to say.

"Okay. That's what I was—the fuck? One fucking night?" Rachel cringed when the girl got right in Quinn's face, her voice cold and low, "I warned you about your crazy shit with Rach so before I beat your ass down you want to explain that, Cap?"

Quinn sneered down at her. "What, exactly? That awkward moment when a guest in your home makes you want to rain down a fire so bad you'll end up on the fucking news? That?"

Brittany pulled an obviously terrified Rachel to her and said, "Santana Maria? Quinn? Dial it _down_ NOW. You're totally super scaring me and Rach."

Santana and Quinn sprang apart like they'd had scalding water thrown on them and immediately turned to their partners, speaking at the same time in their haste to reassure them.

"Aw Britts, don't be scared."

"Rachel, it's okay sweetheart."

Brittany blinked at them and just let that reaction sink in before saying. "You guys are so whipped."

They both stared at her and then...their shoulders fell almost comically in unison. No scaring Brittany and now no scaring Rachel. Brittany, unlike Rachel, had lived under this rule nearly all her life and was used to using it.

She smiled brightly at them. "Q, San's just crazy nervous for you and Rach and I know you are too but you don't get to fight about it, okay? You guys don't have to worry at all because I thought about all of us lots last night while San was asleep and I've got it all worked out. I've sort of made an executive decision. Let's have pizza and I'll tell you when I'm ready so don't start asking."

Even Rachel blinked at this. But she noticed this announcement instantaneously forced a renewed camaraderie between Santana and Quinn as they looked from Brittany to each other and almost visibly asked what the fuck that might bode for them.

Rachel was wildly impressed to see Brittany must have known this because she casually headed into the kitchen for the pizza menus. And why, she supposed, should that surprise her? They'd been at this for years.

They followed her into the kitchen and Rachel heard Quinn hiss at Santana. "I hate you."

"Back atcha with salt and lime, bitch."

Yet it was infinitely less volatile and much more them.

Rachel felt that buoy her and she smiled. Progress!

"Uh oh. Did I just see a bounce there, Rachel?"

"Never you mind, Quinn."

"Definitely a bounce in that gait, little pony."

"I hate you both."

"No you don't."

Rachel suddenly turned and pulled a startled Santana into a prolonged hug. When it was over, she said, "Thank you, Santana. I truly appreciate your concern but I'm perfectly fine. Last night was the loveliest night of my life. Quinn and I just have to learn how to be with each other and sex is really the least of our problems. Give us a break and let us, okay?"

Santana nodded and shot a glance from her to Quinn. "Understood. I'm truly sorry. Sorry, Cap."

"Whatever, S. And she gets a hug and I don't because?"

Rachel rolled her eyes, "Quinn, I swear." She pulled her into a hug and held her tightly until the girl relaxed completely in her arms. "There. No worries, baby. I love you so much."

Quinn sighed, "I love you too."

Santana kissed Quinn's shoulder on the way past, saying, "Geesh. Get a room."

Quinn half-smiled and whispered, "Asshole."

Rachel smiled into Quinn's neck and Brittany smiled down at her menu.

* * *

**Four Hours Earlier**

Where in the hell could they be going? It seemed like they'd driven into the wilds of Ohio.

"David, you do understand that I'm wearing a GPS device cunningly hidden in this marvelous coat, don't you?"

"It's not all that cunning when your dad pulls me away for a little talk and tells me about it and threatens me. I mean, I'm just sayin.'"

"Then I suppose I should just ask. Where are we going?"

"To have lunch, like I said. It's not a big place but it's unusual and nobody goes there except locals."

Kurt looked around him at the passing fields and trees and fields and trees. "Alright. I'm not detecting the presence of humans. But if you're saying we'll be joining animate trees as they lunch, this date is looking up."

David smiled at the road. They hadn't called it a date. He'd asked if Kurt would like to go to lunch and Kurt had agreed.

They finally pulled onto a long dirt and gravel drive off a secondary road. It looked like a farm to Kurt and yes, a farmhouse...and barns...and barns and then a large covered building that seemed perhaps like an enormous covered football enclosure and yet announced itself on a small sign as "Eden's Chicken Shack."

Kurt mouthed the words silently in disbelief. David said, "I know what you're thinking but it's not a chicken shack. It's a joke about what they do. They're farmers and I only know about this place because I helped deliver ten tons of manure here one summer. They keep a garden under that enclosure and a ton of peacocks."

"Okay. I know I'm leaving myself open for a gay joke but, for the record, I will not eat a peacock. For so many reasons."

David snorted, "Won't have to, K. C'mon—I hope you'll like it. You have to understand it's a little crazy to keep peacocks because they aren't really good for anything economically. But they like them because they're pretty so it's sort of cool what they've done."

They walked into the building and Kurt's mouth dropped open. The restaurant was a very small part of the building glassed off from the rest, which was a sheltered beautiful garden that couldn't possibly exist in Ohio's climate. To create it on this scale couldn't be anything but a labor of love. Sure enough, there were peacocks and many other birds he didn't recognize wandering through it. He walked to the glass wall and watched them. It was literally the most shockingly astonishing thing Kurt had ever seen. Someone had actually made all of this beauty bloom in god knows where Ohio. He put his hand on the glass.

"We can walk in the garden later if you want but I think we need to beat the crowd. It gets busy in here."

Actually, they were nearly the only people there but as they ordered from a small but upscale menu, Kurt watched the place fill to capacity and with, as David had said, farmers. Locals. And all of the roughness and jeans and work boots made Kurt suddenly feel very, very out of place.

David saw that and smiled, "Chill. They're not even caring. You're wearing designer but they're eating in a fucking peacock garden by choice. They can't exactly talk, dude."

* * *

**At The Same Time**

"Where are we going again?"

"I said it's a surprise."

"You're not even my friend but I'm riding so excuse me for asking."

"I will."

"And thanks for nothing, bitch."

"And no problem."

Matt could have fallen out of his chair when Mercedes Jones had texted him the day before and said she needed a brotha to help a sistah out and to be ready and she'd pick him up and to bring his fake ID.

With a time and that was all.

So there they were. Riding.

He put up with it for a long time. Figured maybe she knew he would because he never talked but just damn!

He finally broke and said, "'Cedes, where we going because you know what? That t-shirt? 'Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies?' Person of color to person of color since you always drag that shit out? Glee first but I am_ not_ moving a body."

"Hush up. We're bungee jumping."

"We're what?"

"Bungee jumping."

"What? Just—_what_? You—what? Hell to the no!"

She only laughed but she didn't stop the car. Which made him feel like a girl who'd been picked up by some unsub in a horror film. For what seemed like a long-ass time before he just couldn't stand it. "Can we at least delete the silence?"

She hit her iPod and the first thing on it was Rachel. She held up a hand and said, "Don't even."

The rest was Glee stuff heavily featuring herself.

It was nice enough but after a while, of course, there was the question. "Bungee, huh? Why am I along again?"

"It's like a vision quest or something, Matt. I bought a bungee jump and I don't want to be the only African-American person to do it."

"Why would you think you would be?"

She side-glanced at him as she was driving.

He agreed. "Got it. Black folk got sense."

"Right?"

**Later**

He hadn't wanted to believe her but yeah. They were bungee jumping and yeah, they were the only African Americans doing it in this space in Ohio on this go-round.

The whole signing off on life in writing shit terrified him but Mercedes _had _bought him a jump and so it was the last thing he wanted to do because he was more frightened than he'd ever been but he was a guy and no way was he saying no when this girl was saying yes.

They could do two at a time. So there they were, handlers waiting. He couldn't believe it. He stood there begging himself not to crap his pants but shouted at her, with cold wind whipping his face and all this crazy gear on...on top of a bridge...over a river, "Why the _fuck_ are we doing this!"

She looked as frightened as he knew he must—as in like sheer sweating animal fear. She shouted back at him, "I want to feel like Rachel Berry! Don't you? Pound!"

He pounded his fist on hers and they jumped.

* * *

Dunch was relatively carefree for a while.

"Pizza rocks."

"It does, Britts. You know I'm so going to have to ask this, alright?"

There was a look in the girl's eyes Quinn knew meant trouble. "Why do I suddenly feel a yellow card in my hand, San?"

"Just a question about last night."

Quinn's eyes were steely. "Careful."

"Promise. Just wanted to verify that you guys talked and talked until you were blue in the face."

"Communication is a vital part of a sexual relationship, Santana."

"Thanks for that newbie. Just admit it—you talked half the damn night."

Because Rachel had obviously just verified it, Quinn merely said, "Among other things. Yes."

"Fine. That's all except for that word lovely. Rach? Lovely? Really. You had a lovely night?"

Rachel huffed. "Yes, we did. But fine. It was smokin' hot. Is that description more to your taste?"

"Infinitely. Thank you."

The look of smug satisfaction on Santana's face was too much for Rachel to stomach. "You don't know everything, Santana Lopez! For your information, Quinn is the top so put that in your pipe and smoke it!"

Quinn stared at her in horror and then simply covered her face with one hand.

Rachel lowered her voice, "I'm sorry."

"No problem, Rachel."

Santana didn't laugh. She looked exactly as if she were chewing something delicious in her mind but she didn't know what she could say to that except, "Okay."

"And I don't top from the bottom, thank you very much!"

"Rachel! Overshare!"

"I'm sorry. But I do have a question about that issue. May I ask Brittany, Quinn?"

"Oh my God. Why?"

"Who else would I ask?"

Quinn threw her hands in the air. "I guess? Okay."

Rachel cupped Brittany's ear and whispered her question. Brittany thought about it, shrugged, and said in a tone everyone could hear. "No. That's like—everybody says stuff like that."

Rachel stamped her foot on the floor and smiled at Santana in triumph. "I definitively do not top from the bottom! Brittany says so!"

Santana was, at that moment, feeling such a tsunami of wild laughter threatening to burst forth that she had to bite the inside of her cheek. She didnt laugh solely because she could see Quinn was predictably mortified. She only said, "I stand corrected, Rachel."

"Are we finished embarrassing me now?"

"I'm sorry Quinn."

"No worries, Rachel."

Santana looked at Rachel fondly, turned and said, "Jesus, Quinn. I hope at least you took the chance to spank her last night for your trouble." It was a throwaway remark. It was.

Quinn looked like she'd been hit in the face. She barked "No!" as Rachel flushed scarlet.

Santana felt like she'd stepped into a minefield and tried to step right the fuck back. "O-kay. Moving on now."

"I did not spank Rachel, Santana."

"She didn't! Why would you even say something like that?"

Santana shrugged as a bluff because how the fuck was she getting out of this? "I don't know—I sort of want to spank you about five times a day just on G.P. I don't know anyone who doesn't."

Quinn glared at her.

"Not in a sexy times way. Jesus, Quinn! And I wouldn't spank you cause I'd never hit you and I'd punch the shit out of anyone who did. Chill, people. It wasn't even a serious remark. Your response is sorta serious but there you go."

Brittany looked at her friends and said, "I think it's time for my executive decision now."

All of them sagged in relief at the topic change.

"I know it's boring when I talk a long time but I guess you sort of owe me. And I don't want to be mean but I'm doing this so we can all be happy, okay?"

They nodded because they literally had no idea what Brittany was talking about.

"I stayed awake a lot thinking about why you guys were all so nervous about last night and it's totally obvious why but maybe we could do something beside fighting and saying stuff we don't mean. And what was weird is I couldn't come up with anything but one thing so that's what's going to happen. This next part might seem mean, Rach and Q, but I have to say it so you'll understand, okay? So I'm sorry ahead of time, okay?"

They nodded again.

"You're crazy in love with each other but it's going to be super hard for you guys to be together. You're always like...the more you love each other, the more messed up you get thinking about what the other one's thinking and saying something so the other one will think what you're trying to make her think or guessing what she's thinking and getting it all wrong and saying things you don't really think because you're all insecure or jelly and it gets confusing watching for me so I don't even know what it's like doing it."

She went blank for a second.

"That was maybe the longest sentence I've said ever." She shook her head. "Anyway, we're all going to New York and since I know we'll get married and you guys probably will, too, we should just decide today it's a foursome."

Only Santana answered that. "Britts?"

Brittany shrugged, "I don't mean a sex foursome, San, and I'm sorry I didn't tell before we got here. I mean we'll always be two and two but I think we should always be four so Quinn and Rach will have a chance at being two. It's not like I don't think you guys will really try and I'm sorry if it's sore for me to say it but I'm not super positive you guys can do it alone."

She moved into the space between them.

"Like I said, it's my decision. Q, ten years ago you said be mean to Rachel and we all went with it even though it made all four of us super unhappy. I've never made a decision for us but I'm making this one and you have to go along because that's like totally the rules and I followed them so now you guys have to too. You too, Rachel."

There was a long, long pause before Quinn said, "I agree."

San sighed, "Totally. You're in, hobbs. No choice."

Rachel shook her head, "I don't even—what on Earth are we agreeing to?"

"Catch up, short-stack. We're two-and-two-and four. The four's the frame that makes you two lame-asses rein your crazy in. My baby's a genius. We can all be happy this way. Tell me you two don't feel so much better now we're here—except for the bitchslap scare and that was my bad."

Rachel could admit that she was but offered what must be another solution, "But surely it'd be healthier to continue therapy to the point where—"

"You're not a self-absorbed diva? Not happening. And sorry, Q, but I don't even know what to call what you are—but fuck. After a point, therapy's management and lifeskills and shit. You guys are batshit for ten thousand reasons including you got born that way. But we love you and we're going to do this bitch together. Put your fucking hand in, midget."

Rachel hesitated.

Quinn said, "Literally."

Rachel put her hand forward, Brittany topped it. Santana topped hers and Quinn said, "Done," before placing hers on top. All at once it was over. Whatever this meant, which seemly frankly surreal, Rachel was thrilled to be part of a bonding ceremony or perhaps a secret covenant. "So what do we do now?"

"Movie?"

"Quinn!"

"Angel?"

"What do we do?'

"Do?"

"I don't understand. Shouldn't there be something we should do?"

What an earnest, thrilled and gorgeous face, Quinn thought as she looked at Rachel. Suddenly she understood. It had been real inclusion in something that had already been a defining part of her life, even when she'd been outside it but she obviously hadn't understood what it had meant. Not her fault. She'd just joined the club.

"Sweetheart. Our friends just pledged their friendship, love and fidelity to us. And pretty much just to support us."

Rachel replayed the last few minutes in her mind and stamped her foot again. "I demand a repeat!"

She thrust her little hand forward happily and Brittany covered it. Santana covered theirs and Quinn looked at Rachel as she said "Done." And placed her hand on top.

Rachel beamed. "That's incredible!" But then she smirked and said, "Santana? From now on, I'm calling you my life partner!"

Santana looked so appalled that Quinn doubled over with laughter.

"I just...don't...you'd better corral that shit, Q."

"Like we can? She's yours now, too."

Brittany said, "Movie, guys."

And just like that. They watched a movie and things were okay.

After the movie, Brittany said, "We have to talk about something because I sort of think it's super important. Q, tell me the truth?"

Quinn felt something incoming and like she couldn't handle any more but she nodded. "When don't I?"

"Okay. Did you spank Rach? Honestly?"

If the aftermath of sex was always like this, Quinn didn't know if she wanted to ever have it again. But she answered her friend. "No. I didn't."

"Okay. Just sayin' from earlier, I'm thinking you both think that might be hot. And I'm just saying and I'm not going to be sex police with you but you shouldn't do that yet. It can be fun but it can hurt in a super intense way and make you really feel like you're bad doing it or wanting it. And that's like totally the point, really, but you get me?"

They nodded.

"That's okay if you're okay with it but I don't think you are yet. So wait for it and talk to your doctors and it's something that can be sexy fun later. Do it now and it could turn out you'll need lots of help to be anything else to each other, okay? My opinion. Just how..." She made a hand sign, "B sees it."

Rachel and Quinn understood exactly what she was saying but didn't even know what to feel or do about that. And maybe they didn't have to. Because...Brittany offered, "Another movie guys?"

"Yeps—and next is Thai on me, hobbs."

They watched it and, as they did, Rachel sighed with satisfaction. They were The Four Musketeers and she was D'Artagnan! The star!

Halfway through the movie, she was beyond flabbergasted when Santana said, "I totally hear what you're thinking, little pony, and you can be D'Artagnan all day long but that doesn't mean you get to interrupt my movie. Stop thinking so loud."

Rachel smiled and settled down peacefully into Quinn's neck.

* * *

"The power of four!"

"It was the power of three, hobbsanonymous. That's what made Charmed charmed."

"I don't care. Four."

"Quinn?

"What? I have to sleep with this woman."

"Forgot that part for a sec. Granted, Frodo. Four. But fuck you guys."

Four.

They were four. She was finally, finally, finally one of the guys. She vowed to herself never to tell a soul but it felt like everything she'd ever thought winning a Tony would.

* * *

Later, late into the night after they'd texted their parents and sorted everything, Brittany and Santana slept in the guest room and Rachel and Quinn made love without talking about it first. Simply and joyfully.

* * *

"Okay! What'd you guys do over the weekend?"

Every one of William Schuester's students looked at each other.

Many of them smiled.


	61. Chapter 61

**A/N**

**Time jump. I told you it was happening so here it is. I'm not stupid so I promise I'll address lots of the stuff in the years between. Including flashbacks. Hope you like it. Let me know.  
**

* * *

**New York**

**Four Years Later**

Rachel enjoyed the satisfying crunch her big black boots made on the salted snowy pavement. They'd had an ice storm. She was meeting friends for lunch. Well, one friend and two acquaintances. Her friend Ezra, his complete bitch of a girlfriend Chloe, and John. She always did high school notation. Ezra was a Sam, Chloe was a Quinn without any remotely positive mitigating factors and John was a Noah.

She found a fresh patch of snow and stomped it. The toughest part about Julliard she'd gotten through. Living at the dorm because freshmen had to live in the dorms. She'd had Brittany as a roommate but it wasn't the same as having all of them. Quinn and Santana had kept a tiny apartment close to them.

She stomped again.

Now they were all living in a little flat and she was finally happy.

Or maybe. She scowled at the concrete and stomped.

The toughest part was maybe happening now. They were all 20 years old and Santana, who'd never talked about it or seemed to have planned for it was suddenly a star. She—Rachel—had always imagined stardom would be like that—after years of determined preparation and drive—there it would be. Sudden and breathtaking. It was like that—for her watching Santana.

However. To be fair to Santana (stomp) and she had to be (stomp) because she was her life partner (smirk stomp) she had been writing music for years. She'd never shared that (stomp) with Glee when it might have won them Nationals (double stomp) a year before they had but when she'd pointed that out, Santana had said, "Girl please. High school. My shit's breadwinning for our family."

She'd written a song called 'Catch This' and Brittany had choreographed it with Michael. Quinn had directed a video of them performing it. It had all seemed surreal to her.

_She'd scheduled a Saturday workshop for two classmates who'd been partnered with her for an exercise that was supposed to express emotion through motion. She'd sighed loudly when she heard the assignment. Even New York couldn't rid her of Will Schuesters. _

"_You guys are making a video today?"_

_Quinn was making their bed at a time in the morning that was extremely impressive in Rachel's estimation._

"_Yep. And you sort of know that but know what else? Half this bed's yours, tiny. That's a hint."_

_Rachel jumped to help Quinn make the bed. "What song?"_

"_Catch." _

"_And you guys are making a video without me?"_

_Quinn put the finishing touches on their pillows, walked around the bed and kissed Rachel on the nose. "Not intentionally, angel. We've been talking about it for weeks and it's on our partner calendar you made for us. You've been understandably preoccupied so maybe you're forgetting."_

_That was certainly true. Ms. Sokoll had finally called her and…there was a new musical brewing—something that was bound to be huge considering the people behind it. She'd gone to audition, had had two callbacks for it. The lead role. And not for Off or Off-Off Broadway. Broadway. Waiting to hear something—anything—was excruciating. _

_She shook her head to get back to the conversation and realized she probably had been a little out of touch for more than a month._

"_I'm sorry, Quinn. Have I been a bad wife?"  
_

_Rachel could see that Quinn knew exactly where her mind had gone. "You're perfect. Exactly what I signed up for." _

"_Now that you mention it, I do seem to remember your talking about shooting something but you're directing?"_

_Quinn shrugged, "Why not?"_

"_You've never said you wanted to be a director."_

_Quinn continued with spot-cleaning the room."I don't particularly but love of my life? What part of getting paid to say 'Do exactly what I want when I want' doesn't just scream me?"_

_Rachel stamped her foot, "She's paying you?"_

"_Uh huh. Five American dollars. She wouldn't let me do it for free." _

_Rachel considered this. "And there's really not a part for me?"_

_Quinn grinned, "Not this time. Just San and B and Mike. Sorry."_

_Rachel considered this and brightened._

"_Can I watch after my workshop?"_

"_Of course you can. But absolutely no back-seat driving. I'm the director. Come to watch, Rach, but you can only watch and keep that beautiful mouth closed." _

_That was very, very firm._

_So very HBIC that Rachel took Quinn's hand and said, "Hi there." _

_At the sound in that voice, Quinn smiled, "We don't have time." _

"_I do." _

"_We don't."_

"_I'm not talking about we. I'm talking about_ me_. Story of your life?" _

_What followed was rough and extremely quick. So quick it left them both laughing and Rachel yet again completely dumbstruck by love._

_Quinn, resting on top of her, said, "Payback on this is going to sting, Rachel."_

"Ooh. _Promise?"_

"_Count on it."_

_They both smiled._

_They'd grown up so much._

* * *

_When she saw the finished video, Rachel said, "This is a perfect calling card! You can get an agent!"_

_Santana waved one hand. "Agent? Kidding, right? I'm putting this bitch on youtube."_

"_What? It's a song you can sell! You need a record deal! It's your ticket."_

"Our_ ticket, life partner. This way's best way. They'll come begging. Trust me."_

39 million hits later (stomp), Santana was negotiating a bidding war over her first album. People approached Santana on the street and asked for autographs. It was literally erupting around them but she didn't understand Santana's reaction to it. It would have been everything to her and it seemed like nothing to Santana.

Not that she wasn't nice. She was so nice to everyone. Santana had fans and was nice to them. Exactly as nice and distant as she should be but without having schooled herself scrupulously on fan etiquette for a decade as Rachel had. Which should have been enthralling but the only thing that seemed to matter to Santana was the business.

_She'd walked into a call and Santana had waved for her to shut up and all the business details had been bewildering but Santana had just been nice and mean and nice and mean and then had just said "get back" and had tossed her phone on the couch. _

"_He fucking hates me but whatever. I wants what I wants. Toughest table to run against, hobbs, is someone who can walk away. I got the goods so I can. It might not be this guy but it'll be someone. We're going to be millionaires, Rachel Barbra. Britts and Q and you will be set no matter what happens to me."_

_Rachel just gaped at her. _

_And then tears filled her eyes._

_Santana waved a hand. "You know what? Don't. Get the fuck out of my mind."_

Stomp!

Add to that? Quinn had just been cast in an independent movie. Quinn had never even wanted to act in her life.

Stomp!

Nothing was going according to plan. Nothing.

Stomp!

She stomped her boots at the door of the restaurant…and met her friend plus two.

"Ez!"

He was so crazily beautiful, already on his feet and so happy to see her. "Rach!"

She hugged him as she said, "Hi, Chloe. Hi, John." She pulled her coat off, put it on her chair and, after 30 seconds, ordered with everyone.

She was wearing her Mr. Pug sweater because she was feeling disconcerted.

She knew Chloe could not stand the fact Ezra adored her. The girl didn't mind so much the fact that John wanted to sleep with her because he was a man-whore but still.

Just one dismissive look. "Nice sweater, Rachel."

Rachel almost laughed because she'd heard far worse from better looking women.

Chloe had already told her to have a nose job, that Hebes weren't 'in' right now, in case she was wondering and on and on and on.

"Thank you, Chloe, and have I mentioned lately I'm dead to sarcasm?"

She tried again. "This weather is insane guys!

Ezra had been Rachel's buddy from orientation day at Julliard. He loved her, loved her, loved her. He realized the fact he wanted to die over the pug sweater when she was married, married, married probably might sorta be a legit reason for his girlfriend to hate her. But he was having third and fourth thoughts about Chloe every time she spoke to Rachel. He looked at his friend and just answered what was obviously her really trying to ignore Chloe's buzz kill, "Right? I love this weather. Anything hoppin'?"

Despite the fact they were good friends, Rachel had always kept him at a very respectful distance, had never introduced him to her wife. But she beamed at him. A low beam, for her. "Oh you know. The usual."

Chloe answered, "Which is what? Wondering about that predictable job as a waiter you actors get?"

Chloe was a cello player. Ezra was a classical guitarist and John was, too.

Why even bother. Life had taught Rachel that. Still. "I'm a singer, Chloe."

"Whatever."

"Is whatever you're an oboe player, bitch?"

Chloe had never been as shocked in her life looking up into the eyes of someone everyone these days knew—actually two people.

S Lopez and that dancer in her video.

Santana shook her index finger at Chloe and clapped her hand on Rachel's shoulder, "School time. Bell's ringing."

The dancer, who was wearing a moose hat, said, "Totally."

The dancer scared Chloe more than the tiny youtube girl.

Ez had nothing to offer but John put his focus where his pants were, "You're so fucking hot."

Brittany smiled. "Right?"

"John!"

"What?"

Rachel pointed wildly between Brittany and Santana. "What about her wife's right here don't you get?"

"That one's this one's wife? Serious up? That's so whack. You guys know each other?"

"Since grade school. We live together."

He held up his hands and said "My bad…but…can I watch?"

"John!"

"Sorry."

Rachel had thought she'd only mentioned a very few times how casually mean Chloe always was to her but she_ had_ put this lunch on their partner calendar.

Which meant.

Oh fuck.

"Sorry I'm late."

The most alarmingly gorgeous woman Chloe had ever seen joined them.

"Hello. I'm Quinn. Rachel's told me so much about you!" She gave Ezra an air kiss to both cheeks. She notably didn't with the other two.

Rachel just watched because what could she say.

"Enjoy your lunch. Me and San and B are getting take out but how about this, Chloe?"

She lowered her voice, "Meet the people who can and will end you. You're doing high school with my wife but think about it."

Rachel closed her eyes because she knew real pain was incoming.

"Julliard and the cello huh? What's that gonna get you? Let me guess. If you're lucky? Sawing away in the symphony in exactly the same sad-ass place you came from. Let's have a look."

She looked Chloe over from head to toe and sneered at her.

"Right. You're not New York, Chloe. You're bush league. Everything about you says anxious bitter wannabe."

"Isn't it nice to make fun of Rachel because you're so unsure of yourself? Know what little girl? Look at Santana. Look at Brittany. And look at me. Really look at me. I promise you'll be looking at all three of us if you say one more disparaging word to Rachel. No one hurts her. Got that?"

Chloe had never had such pointed ferocity aimed at her. She didn't know what to say. Or do.

Santana sighed. "Just nod if you understand, dumbass."

She nodded.

And then it was like the disbanding of a flashmob.

Quinn said, "Think our food's ready, San?"

"Should be."

"See ya hobbs. And Ez? Follow me on and Ryk on Facebook. You're badass. John, you too but you're never getting' it, bitch."

Brittany kissed Rachel on the head even as the girl's phone vibrated.

She whipped it from her pocket and stared.

Quinn, Santana and Brittany knew her. Her suddenly blank stare.

Quinn took the phone. Looked at the message, which meant it would or wouldn't be the best news of their lives.

"Call him back. Understand, Rachel. We love you and don't care either way."

"I'll go outside."

"Yep."

She called and listened and could scarcely believe what she was hearing.

Broadway and yes.

Broadway and yes.

She texted Quinn and knew it was dumb to do so when she was so close but still.

**Rachel Berry: Yes**

**Quinn Fabray: Yes? **

**Rachel Berry: ME! Yank our family out of there and let's go home**

They rushed out and just looked at her. And she at them. Faces that had told her for years and years and years she couldn't make it...looking so transported by joy that she had.

The return of the promised ice storm had started. Rachel looked around her. She was in Manhattan being buffeted by blistering ice. She didn't care. She was with her family. And finally.

Finally, finally. She dropped to her knees.

* * *

**Later**

**Rachel Berry: Ezra—I'm sorry you met us like this. They're really protective and I can't do anything about it**

**Rachel Berry: Got that Broadway part Ez! I'm so excited! Listen to S and keep us on Facebook. We'll always keep you hooked up. Love you!**  
**  
Ezra Armstrong: I can't even…am literally crying right now. **

**Rachel Berry: Right? Me too!**

**Ezra Armstrong: Go—call me later. Love you so much, little buddy. Can I meet your wife again when she's a little less scary spice?**

**Rachel Berry: Ak ak ak. The eight ball says yes!**

* * *

**Later Still**

She'd hyperventilated, called her dads, their mom and had had punishingly lovely sex.

Quinn was asleep. As far as she knew, Brittany and Santana were.

She reached for her phone and typed.

**Rachel Berry: What Quinn said wasn't true**

**Chloe Green: Why are you texting me**

**Rachel Berry: She was mad and said things you're afraid of. She's good at that**

**Chloe Green: Why do you care**

**Rachel Berry: Because I've heard you play. You have such joy inside you. Please just try to start living what you play, okay?**

Minutes passed.

**Chloe Green: Really?**

**Rachel Berry: Yes**

**Chloe Green: You're—I don't even know what you are. Thank you, Rachel.**

**Rachel Berry: You're welcome.**

**Rachel Berry: Just be happy, okay?**

**Chloe Green: It's that easy?**

**Rachel Berry: NO! I use Power Point**

**Chloe Green: Oh. My. God.**

**Rachel Berry: Bye**

**Chloe Green: Bye**


	62. Chapter 62

**A/N: Disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Oh, how AU this has become.**

**These girls are 20 years old at the beginning. To refresh your memory: Quinn has directed Santana's first music video that also features Brittany and Mike and that's become a huge Youtube hit. She's been cast in an independent movie and Rachel has just been cast in a Broadway musical.**

**This is a very Faberry chapter. Which will lead to a Brittana chapter and a few fab-four chapters and then out.**

**Hope you enjoy and if you like, love or hate it, let me know. Or don't. You readers got it like that, don'tcha?**

* * *

Rachel and Quinn were lying in bed talking and kissing when Rachel pulled away slightly and looked into her eyes, "You seem a little distant, baby. Are you nervous about the table reading?"

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Quinn said, pulling her closer again, I don't know. Maybe...yes."

"Do you want to talk about it? Before you say no, remember I actually may be able to help or maybe my just listening will help and beside that I'm your wife and communication is a vital part of a healthy marriage."

Quinn squeezed the tiny woman fondly, "Goodness Rachel, I never knew there were so many vital parts of a healthy marriage."

"While it's charming that you're mocking my zeal for the health of our marriage, don't think I don't know you're avoiding talking about yourself."

Quinn chuckled, kissed Rachel on the nose and then propped her head on one hand. "Okay, I guess I'm trying out who this Quinn Fabray-actor person is going to be."

"What do you mean?"

"I've made the Quinn Fabray-college-student person a fairly muted version of me. Meaning I have zero interest in most people and zero interest in drawing attention to myself. I try to make her pleasant enough without inviting interaction. Polite, cool and aloof is who she is. Easy enough because that's who I am except for the whole polite thing."

"Quinn, don't—"

"No, Rachel. You wanted me to talk about what's bothering me so the rules are you have to listen, okay?"

Rachel nodded.

"First thing. I do actually find it exciting—the prospect of making a movie and the creativity and the technicality of it. You know I loved it from the directing side and I'm getting offers there so maybe that's really where I should be but we'll see. I know you were a little hacked off when I got this part but—"

She hastened to place a finger on Rachel's mouth. "Don't even. You were and I understand why. You've wanted to act all your life and I've never wanted to and I got there first."

She removed her finger and Rachel lowered her eyes, "It was very ignoble of me to be jealous but you have to know I was proud of you and happy for you, too."

"Of course I did, angel. But here's the part you're not going to understand about this because we're so different. If I'm any good at this and if I'm very lucky, this could be a very lucrative career for me. It would also give me a great deal of latitude to spend time with you, which is all I want in this world. Those are massive pluses for me. The idea of working in film is exciting to me. The idea of possibly becoming a film star fills me with such anxiety and despair that I can't begin to tell you."

Rachel's face fell. "Why?"

"Sweetheart. You live for people to look at you and admire you and fawn over you. I despise even the idea of that sort of thing directed at me. Remember I said so in the future if it happens. That said? I'm doing it so how do you think I should play it? Who should I be? Remembering I'm not you."

"Give me a minute."

"Take your time."

Rachel had learned these were serious questions for Quinn because she only truly felt solidly herself with a very few people. With everyone else, hour after hour, day after day, Quinn decided who she needed to be. Rachel, who could only and ever be herself, didn't really understand Quinn's struggle but she knew it was real and that making these decisions beforehand was her way of coping with it.

After nearly five minutes, Rachel answered, "You already know everything I'm going to tell you because you've been using it for years. I guess what I'd say is you can go a few ways. I think you can be a raging bitch and still get ahead but it'd probably be better to surprise people and not be one."

Rachel chewed her lip gently until Quinn said, "Just spit it out, Rach."

"Like you said, you're naturally cool and aloof and that has nothing to do with other people at all. But when they add your demeanour to your extraordinary beauty they decide that you must think you're too good for them. Which is totally unfair to you but equals bitch to a lot of people, I guess."

This uncharacteristic lack of forthrightness made Quinn grin, "You don't have be nervous talking about this, sweetie."

Rachel sighed, "Okay. No one can look warmer or more angelic and lovely than you do when you're really smiling and it's in your eyes. But if you don't make the effort to put the warmth there—and I know this makes you uncomfortable—you're so beautiful and glacial that you don't even look real. It's a little awful—in the inspiring awe and fear sense of that word. You're so perfect looking, you're scary."

"Yeah," Quinn shrugged. "I know that."

"I know you know that. I'm just saying you might need to step it up from college-student-Quinn. How about this? When you meet people, put at least the warmth into your attitude you'd give Sam or Tina. Pleasant, cool tolerance and, if they work hard enough for it, distantly cool affection. If they turn out to be bitches or bastards, all bets are off. The good part for you, which is totally unfair by the way, is if you give people even the tiniest and most grudging of pleasantries, the way you look magnifies it in their minds one hundred times. 'The goddess actually spoke two words to me and almost sort of smiled! I can die happy!"

"Shut up."

"I used to think that all the time, Quinn."

"And now you're sleeping with her."

"Married to her."

"That too."

"Honestly, I think you can do that. It's just being a little nicer and more engaged than you'd naturally want to be but not so much it's unsustainable or you couldn't face yourself in the mirror."

"Or to summarize—be nice."

"_Er. _Be nicer, Quinn. Not nice like other people are. Nicer than your default—which is considerably less than other people's nice default. You're so beautiful, it'll be enough."

Quinn thought about it and smiled. "Okay, I'll try it. Thank you."

Rachel beamed, "I told you I could help!"

"You did and you were right, sweetheart."

Quinn pounced, pushed Rachel on her back and straddled her. "You know what else is a vital part of a healthy marriage?"

Rachel looked up into smouldering hazed eyes and answered brightly and hopefully, "Discipline?"

"Oh my God," Quinn half-rolled her eyes, "I've told you we're not ready for that yet."

"Speak for yourself."

"Alright. I'm not ready for that yet."

"Fine, but Quinn?"

"Rachel?"

"Can we have a safe word?"

Quinn blinked. "Sweetie, I really don't think we do anything that requires a safe word."

"I know that but I think I'd feel very salacious knowing we have one."

Quinn scrubbed her face with her hands, "Okay. You're the bottom. You choose."

"I am?"

"Stop fishing. We both know the drill. Look where I am—look where you are. What's your choice?"

"Eardrum!"

A very long pause. "Eardrum."

"Yes! Want to know why?"

Quinn looked down into tremendously pleased brown eyes. She slept with two people. Rachel, her incredibly uninhibited, frankly libidinous wife and Rachel Berry, who was not a lot different at 20 than she had been at six, except for her choice of conversational topics.

"Sure. Of course I do."

Rachel smiled, "Beside the fact I find the word very pleasing in itself, I couldn't think of one reason I would say eardrum while we were making love."

"Yeah. I can pretty much promise I'll never do anything to one of your ears that would make you say, "Hey! That's my eardrum."

Rachel frowned and lightly slapped Quinn on the thighs. "Are you taking this seriously?"

Quinn rolled off of the woman, threw herself on her back in the bed and exhaled, "Yes."

Rachel studied her profile, and said in a very quiet voice, "I killed the mood, huh?"

Quinn held up her hand with her forefinger and thumb an inch apart, "_Un poco_."

"I'm sorry. Are you mad?"

Quinn turned to her, smiled and took her hand. "Of course I'm not mad. I adore you."

"I bet I could put you back in the mood."

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised."

Rachel made a motion to signify zipping her lips and lifted her eyebrows.

Quinn nodded, "Yes, that's a great start."

She quickly undressed herself, held two thumbs up and looked from her thumbs to Quinn.

"Yep. Two thumbs way up."

She helped Quinn undress, pulled her on top of her and grinned up at her.

"It's killing you not to talk, isn't it, Rach?"

The woman nodded vigorously.

Quinn kissed her softly, "Speak, angel."

Rachel sighed, "This is better, isn't it?"

"Tremendously."

"You're so pretty, Quinn."

"Thank you. So are you." She kissed her chin, "And our safe word's a good one."

"It is?"

"Uh huh. It was very forward thinking of you because I'm going to make you use it tonight."

She immediately tapped Rachel softly on the nose, "Not the way you want me to and I promise I won't tickle you but I will make you use it."

The smaller woman rolled her eyes as if she were bored, "You can try."

Quinn croaked, "There is no try. There is only do."

Rachel gaped, "Alright, Sam. _Yoda_? Seriously? You call _me_ a mood killer?"

"I always gets mines back."

"You're impossible."

"Look at the clock. Time me."

It took Quinn seventeen minutes. Looking down at Rachel as she caught her breath, her entire body tinged a beautiful shade of red, Quinn had to smile.

"No gloating."

"Okay. Let me practice my acting. Here—see? Do I look smug?"

"I hate you."

Quinn kissed her on the nose. "You love me."

Rachel sighed, "I love you."

"I love you too—so much." Quinn propped her head in her hand and said, "And that's why I hate to do this but I'm going to be serious here, okay?"

"Why? Did I do—"

"You didn't do anything wrong, okay?"

"Okay."

Quinn opened her mouth, seemed to think better of speaking, and then shook her head. "Can I point out that as soon as you brought up discipline, our interaction became markedly less mature?"

Tears immediately filled Rachel's eyes. "You mean mine. My behaviour."

"Yes. But I went along with it very willingly. That's because we were distancing ourselves emotionally from something we want that makes us intensely uncomfortable. You say discipline but the things we've talked about doing aren't discipline, Rachel, in even a fun kinky way. They're sexualizing our abusive relationship."

Quinn didn't know what was in Rachel's eyes as she wiped them but when she said, "Oh, honey," and pulled the sheet up over them, she realized it must be something like sympathy. Or even pity.

"Sweetie, now _I'm _going to be serious here. Need a pillow?"

Quinn understood with that offer that she was about to be schooled so she nodded. Rachel handed her one and Quinn hugged it to her chest.

Rachel propped her head in her hand. "Sweetheart. I don't even...I word things the way I do because _you're_ uncomfortable. _I'm_ not. I was acting less mature because you can't tolerate anything more than PG-13. And let's face it. The things I want are a little embarrassing if I'm talking to a teenager so I meet you where you are."

She put a finger on Quinn's mouth. "Truth?"

Quinn hesitated but nodded.

"I'm going to be serious and adult with you now, okay? Think you can handle that?"

Quinn nodded again.

"Sexualizing our abusive relationship. Okay. We've talked around this a lot but we've never just said it. Let's. Our abusive relationship _was_ sexual, Quinn. You abused me with sexual imagery and denigration and you abused me _because _you wanted me sexually. And I've told you I masturbated thinking of you back then and believe me you weren't Mary Poppins in my fantasies. You were exactly you. Our abusive relationship was sexual and for whatever reason or probably some pretty obvious ones, its still a huge part of our sexuality. That's a fact."

Rachel paused. "Breathe, Quinn."

Quinn took a deep breath.

"I don't want to revisit our past at all, sweetheart. I want us to be who we are. And I'm just going to say fuck and forget all this top and bottom stuff because it's simplistic sexual theatre compared to who we are to each other. You're Quinn. I'm Rachel. And between us, only between us, we know exactly what saying that means. Still with me?"

Quinn gripped her pillow more tightly but nodded.

"We've talked about this a little a few times—to the point where I knew you were incredibly uncomfortable. I know when I told you exactly what I wanted and you admitted that you wanted it too at some very galactic distant point in the future it nearly gave you an anxiety attack so I won't do that. But let's go over what you're putting roadblocks up over thinking we're reliving our abusive past. Because I'm being exceedingly safe with myself and with you, baby. Completely safe and sane. I'm going to say it again because you need to hear it again. Please just open your ears and your mind. Listen to how incredibly restrained you have to be with me. And again, fuck topping from the bottom. I am and I could not care less. I'm taking care of Quinn and Rachel, okay?"

Quinn nodded again.

"You may spank me—please —on the ass only—with your hand and nothing else. You may not restrain me with anything except your body. You may not blindfold me or in any way subject me to sensory deprivation. What other accessories we use are subject to my approval. If I say no, it goes."

"Don't look so shell-shocked, sweetie—I know you agree with all of this."

"You may not say mean things to me or about me. Although I want to do things that might be perceived as erotically humiliating, you may not say one word suggesting I'm bad or dirty to wish to do them or as I do them. You must treat me with complete respect at all times and the only things you can do or say to me are to make me understand how completely I belong to you. Don't think I don't know what a safe word means. I want you to push me until the only thing I can feel or think or know is the fact that I belong to you. The whole point of all of this, for me, is to be closer to you. To really feel you push yourself into me, on me, over me completely. I don't care if it hurts because I hope it will and I don't care if I cry because I want to. It's a part of us we can't erase and I wouldn't do it even if I could because I can never be close enough to you."

She touched Quinn's cheek. "The difference between us in this is that I'm not ashamed of my feelings and you are. I understand why but what I'm telling you is you don't have to be. We won't be reliving anything from the past. We'll be living a part of us that needs a safe way to express itself. For all of this exhausting talking we do in the bedroom, there isn't any way to _say_ this. It's something we feel. I think you imagine this will take us over somehow and be the only way we can be with each other but it won't. I promise. It's only a small part of us but it _is_ a part of us and I want to acknowledge that and experience it with you, sweetheart."

Quinn pulled her pillow closer. She was crying. "I don't even know how to answer that, Rachel."

"Take your time. You can say no, Quinn. Always. But how about yes?"

Quinn's first thought was that they'd known each other fourteen years, dated three, been married one and how fucking long would it take before she'd stop underestimating Rachel Berry just because she was so very Berry? _Fuck._

Rachel waited out the longest fifteen minutes of her life before Quinn said, "Thank you for explaining and yes, it was exhausting but yes. Yes, Rachel."

Rachel grabbed the pillow in Quinn's arms, tossed it into the air and snuggled into her girl. "You're completely impossible, you know."

Quinn hugged her. "I believe you've told me that already tonight. Whatever. I'm learning."

"Slowly. Glacially slowly. On an evolutionary time-scale slowly."

Quinn tightened her hug, "Fuck that. And dude. Are you maturing faster than I am?"

"In this respect, yes. But you're the boy. Boys mature slower than girls."

"But I'm the girlier girl."

"That you are."

"I'm sort of devastated, Rach."

"Because?

"Don't think I don't remember you owe me three orgasms tonight about ten billion years ago."

"Only because you've been talking so long, I'm tired. How about one?"

"Oh my God—_I've_ been talking so long?"

"Quinn, I'm sleepy. I know I had three in seventeen minutes and thanks for the stopwatch by the way but I'm like cup-a-soup-add-Quinn-pow and you're not. I can promise one."

"One measly orgasm."

"Quinn Fabray! Measly! Have you ever had a measly orgasm under my watch?"

"Fine, but you have to admit measly is a funny adjective paired with orgasm. Plus the consonance is pleasing. Ooh—look at me—alliteration. Under my watch from you to me I'll leave alone for now. But to paraphrase you, you may not give me an orgasm in that kissing way."

Rachel kicked her foot in the bed. Quinn laughed.

All was right in their world.

* * *

Quinn arrived exactly on time for her first cast meeting and table reading, ever. Lead actress in an independent movie. Crazy. At least she knew she wasn't alone in the inexperience. This was the first feature for their writer/director, Aaron Summer. The only reason she'd taken it was because the script was great and because Aaron had such passion for it. She also couldn't help being impressed by the fact he'd given the female lead an equal dramatic weight in the dark comedy. Armed with a double shot of Rachel, she looked at her feet, took a deep breath and walked into the room.

* * *

It was a small cast. Aaron had brought soda and snacks for everyone and they were gathered around the 'craft wagon' table when the door opened.

They all turned. She looked at them as Rachel had suggested. Aaron, four Sams and three Tinas. When they did, Quinn decided to just fuck it and gave them full wattage.

And yeah. Obviously. Pow. The most beautiful woman any of them had ever been in the same room with was smiling at them.

"Hi, guys." She looked at her watch. "Aaron, I am perfectly on time." She crossed the room as she said, "And I'd know, buddy. Greenwich Mean calls me to keep up." She air-kissed him, stood back and said, "Sorry I'm completely not late. I'm Quinn Fabray."

As they all introduced themselves, she shook their hands and forced warmth. First impression—one Sam and thank God he was the male lead, three Pucks, one Tina, two Mercedes.

"Want a soda, Quinn?"

"Anything decaffeinated. My wife's the only carbonated part of me."

She took a ginger ale as she said, "Sorry but I like to get that part about me out of the way first."

She watched Aaron and the cast digest this—and quickly—as they sat down at a long white table. She distanced herself by three empty chairs from everyone.

"Okay, people. As you know, I'm Aaron Summer. I've summoned you for a cast reading of my—hell—_our_ first feature. And you know, guys, I've got my whole life to be an auteur if I can or shit like that but this is my first feature. My first. So I'm not even going to front with you. Maybe one day you people will be all 'talk to the hand and with money' but right now, we're on the same page. So you know what? I don't care if it seems all high school but let's introduce ourselves. I'll start. I'm Aaron Summer. I grew up here in the Bronx. I've wanted to be a director all my life. I've watched movies and director's commentaries all my life—like when I was six and shit. And I knew that I knew that I knew that all I'd ever want to be or have in this life is this—to create a story and for actors to trust their art with me. So I think that makes me about the luckiest guy alive right now. That you guys trust me. And I know it's for whatever reasons but still. It's something I'm going to fucking kill myself to deserve. So if it makes me lame that I wanna bring you sodas and thank you for being a part of a dream come true for me, so be it."

Quinn answered as tears were stinging her eyes. He was a Rachel. A beautiful person incapable of being less than honest boy. "It's not lame, Aaron. It's lovely and you're a dream come true for all of us. People—introduce yourselves in turn. I was last in. Me last."

HBIC still worked.

As they introduced themselves, the people were from all over the U.S. and Canada but there was a heavy emphasis on high school drama clubs, commercials. Yes. They were all newbies.

"Quinn?"

"Right. Quinn Fabray. Born and raised in Lima, Ohio, which is exactly as interesting as it sounds. I have zero experience in drama, except in the familial sense. I suppose the only thing that comes close to the stage is my high school Glee club, which won the national title our senior year. Or maybe winning the national cheer competition three years in a row. That was more dramatic than you could understand."

An actor named Mark said, "Quinn Fabray. Why's that name familiar to me?"

Quinn thought about it for a few seconds and said, "Youtube, maybe."

"You're on youtube?"

"No. My girls and boy are."

About fifteen seconds passed and then Aaron slapped himself on the side of the head. "No FUCKING way. Catch? Are you fucking serious? Why didn't I, like, register this? You're Quinn fucking Fabray! You directed Catch?"

"Well…yeah."

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! What the fuck, Quinn! Why didn't you tell me that?"

"I have no answer for that except I was auditioning for an acting job or maybe sorry?"

"Dude you have no idea how much shit me and my director boys have been talking about that fucking bridge and trying to figure out how you did that stop-animation shit. It looked so real it was sick!"

"Aaron. Seriously? We can fangirlboy later."

"The fuck you say. I wanna hear it now."

She looked around the room—more interest than hatred.

"Okay. Me and Britts—the female dancer in that video—were watching the original_ Clash of the Titans_ and I'd been sort of suffering thinking about what to do about the bridge and she said, "Me and Mike, Q."

Quinn took a sip of ginger ale, "So there it was. We did it old school with a still camera."

"No way. Still camera? Really?"

"Really. Obviously understanding the double frame, we dropped the music to 1/12 of what it was and that made about 37 seconds seven minutes plus but Britts and Mike are monsters of dance. It was insane for them to do that for me—you can't imagine the body control because we had to slowly hit 444 stops. We did it eleven times. I promise you if it looks cool, it's all them."

"Fuck. Just fuck."

"Thanks, Aaron. Table reading?"

They all refreshed their drinks with ice and when they sat down Aaron asked, "Forget your script, Quinn?"

She pulled it out of her bag and said, "No. I'm off book."

Jessica flailed, "Are we supposed to be off book?"

Aaron said, "No. You're fine. Okay, Quinn, but you can follow along with us?"

"Sure—but I'm off book for the script—not just for me."

"You're off book for all of us?"

She smiled sweetly at all of them. "Of course I am. I had a few minutes after class."

* * *

As they did the read through, Aaron was thrilled. Quinn had simply crossed her arms and delivered, again and again, the money shot. She was delivering the diabolical but she had exquisite and impeccable comic timing. He'd had to back them all up, time and time again, to match her.

All of them knew it and felt it. She knew it and felt it. She was going to be someone. Gorgeous. Wildly and scarily talented.

She smiled at all the Sams and Tinas. Because Rachel would want her to.

Whipped!


	63. Chapter 63

**A/N: Disclaimers from Chapter One apply. AU in the house.**

**Okay...let's check them out. They're still 20.**

* * *

Getting a place on Broadway had involved waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Today was the day.

Waiting was something Rachel hadn't done happily or easily but her wife and life partners were almost maddeningly patient with her. It didn't matter how slightly insane she was acting. They smiled and let everything go. But she wasn't completely obtuse and knew they had to feel like clubbing her.

Like a baby seal.

She looked into their bathroom mirror. Her eyes looked alarmingly, disturbingly like a baby seal's.

Could waiting for something you wanted so badly make you lose your mind?

"Rach?"

"Brittany?"

"What time do you want to leave for the theater? I need to call Mike."

"Mike? Our Mike? Michael's in town? Why?"

"What time do you want to leave for the run through?"

"Start over. I don't understand."

"Me and Mike and you? Run through at two?"

"I'm going to the theatre at two to meet with Vacek."

"Right. Us too."

Rachel shook her head. "What are you saying?"

"Oh. Wow. Rach—me and Mike are your choreographers. Didn't you know that?"

Rachel felt like she'd been suddenly hit, and very brutally, by a bus—not a baby seal clubber. "NO. I didn't know that—why didn't you tell me that, Brittany?"

"I thought you knew. I mean, Irena's producing this—who'd you think she'd let do it?"

"But that's—no. That's insane. Choreography's the creative team and this is Broadway and you guys are only 20 and oh my God!"

Brittany smiled, "I know. I mean, I get it—but you're only 20, too, Rach. I feel you—you're totally going to be singing stuff that's already been made up for you but me and Mike have to make up the whole show visually. Well, us and Consuela—the set designer. Sucks to be us, right?"

"I think I'm hyperventilating."

"Don't."

"How can you say that?"

"Don't is like one word. Easy."

"But you're going to—"

"Breathe, Rach. Irena would never let me fall or fail. Ever. Or Mike or you. If she says we can do it, we can. I think it'll be super triple hard for all of us but at the end, easy out, okay?"

Rachel had been dying, dying, dying with trepidation, fear, anxiety, and any other permutation of horror she could think of. Even meeting Bonifac Vacek, much less working with him, was completely insane. He'd worked with everyone, including Barbra and Liza. She'd been sweating with fear for weeks. And there her buddy was—her sub captain. Just smiling as if it were the most normal thing in the world—to meet with one of the most amazing directors Broadway had ever produced. Coming out of retirement for this.

Rachel felt such relief knowing she'd have friends with her she didn't even know how to express it except by launching herself into Brittany's arms and weeping like the world was coming to an end.

Brittany next to never rolled her eyes. But she made an exception for this and just patted Rachel's little head.

* * *

Bonifac Vacek was 86 years old. What was left of his hair was long and white but he was a huge dour Czech who looked very much younger than his age.

Rachel could have written the Wikipedia entry on him. She knew who he was and what he'd done and who he'd worked with—down to the last detail. She was a little, or a lot, alarmed that when they entered the room the only people in it were she and Brittany and Michael, Mr. Vacek and a piano player who could have been Brad's brother.

"I am Bonifac and that sounds strange in Western mouths so you should please call me Bon. Allan will be gracing us with his playing today."

He plopped three fat books in front of them. "Our score and book."

"Mr. Vacek?"

"Bon."

"Bon—why aren't the rest of the cast here? Or the writers? Isn't that customary?"

"Yes. It is. This will be a very uncustomary show—if it happens. Listen and learn."

It took nearly two hours.

Rachel was completely transported. Strikingly amazing, stirring music—with a shockingly vibrant libretto. Songs she'd die to sing. A story she'd die to act. As Allan played the last notes of the last song, Rachel could scarcely believe it. It was a star vehicle. It wasn't Les Mis or Phantom or even Wicked. It was a something that would demand full-stop dancing and ferocious acting while making amazing songs soar. With one real star and that would be her. That didn't happen anymore. That hadn't happened in decades. She hated to admit it but Barbra couldn't do it. Liza when she was young, maybe.

Bon sighed as he took a seat, "I see you can see what this is, Rachel. This doesn't happen."

Rachel took a deep breath and sized him up but, more importantly and poignantly to him, seemed to very reluctantly size herself. To her detriment. "It's really too big for a newcomer. I can certainly sing and act it but I'm not the dancer you'll need. I understand that."

Brittany and Mike were very similarly cowed having encountered the piece. There were other singer/actors but it was really nearly truly one person and dancers. It was so huge and emotional and would need so much from them it would be murder to give life to it in dance.

"Yes. It is too big for you. And no, you are not the dancer I need. Can I explain why I may take a chance?"

"Yes, please."

"You know how old I am and you know I am retired. But I have a bit of whimsy left in me. When Irena called me about this, I laughed out loud and I never laugh. But I met with her. I've known her for half a century—from when we were in the defectors club. Eastern Bloc."

He smiled at them. "Allan, you may leave, please."

Allan nodded silently and left and even as he did, Rachel had a fleeting thought about the strange lives of theatrical piano accompanists.

"This musical, as it presents itself, would be very nearly impossible to stage. You'd need an established star to do it because it's so big—who would want to see it otherwise? We could cast a Chenowith or Menzel and we might—we _might_ scrape through if we were insanely lucky. But it was written for younger actors so that's not what we're doing."

He looked at them and the full weight of his glacial Czech demeanour made them all swallow, hard.

"Irena Sokoll is eccentric and has been since I met her when she was the prettiest fourteen year old I'd ever met and wished she weren't so young. This is the most eccentric thing I've ever known from her."

He smiled at them—the thinnest smile they'd ever seen.

"Do you know that people never, ever in Hollywood or Broadway put their own money on the table? They don't. The way this would work in real life? It wouldn't get off the ground. We would workshop it and beg people for the interest and money to do it. But my feeling if we did this? No. Like Mel Gibson. He asked for money and he was a huge star and no cap in hand boy. But no. He spent his own money creating The Passion of the Christ. Just as Irena will be spending her own money—and that means multiple millions of dollars—for you three to do this."

He ran his hand over his jaw as he looked them over.

"Why? I ask myself this. She has purchased the rights to this amazing story and these songs and I wonder why. She has told me. You, Michael, and you very especially Brittany, are the loves of her life. That is obvious and she has told me. But you, Rachel. You are the cipher. She wants you to succeed and believes you can. She believes in you enough put millions of dollars on the table behind you although she and I and now you know you aren't what you need to be to do so. For that reason, you intrigue me."

Rachel had no idea what to say to that.

"Rachel."

"Bon."

"I have directed musical theatre for 60 years. You understand this."

"Yes, sir."

"If we do this, this show will be a complete triumph or it will be a disaster that you can't believe. I've lived through both so please believe and understand I know this. There will be nothing in between. This could perhaps lift you up in a way no young diva has experienced in decades or, if it fails, it could damage you professionally for a very long time. Perhaps in a way you could never overcome. Brittany and Mike may take some of the blame but you will be the only public face and name to a failure. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"I felt the need to explain this because you are so very young and I am very old. I wouldn't have cared when I was, say, 50. I would have ground you up like glass if I wanted the music on my stage. No more. Especially for young people Irena loves so much. I feel I should also suggest to you that if Irena will go to these extraordinary lengths for you, that she would also pull strings for you in far less dangerous ways. And not because you need them. I have heard you. You have a voice that comes only a few times in any generation. That is what I have to say."

Rachel stood and said, "Yes."

Brittany stood and her voice seemed incredibly loud to Rachel. "No." She pointed her finger at Bon, "Hold please."

"Brittany?"

"No, Rach. Sorry, Bon. Press pause. No. We have to stop and think. And thanks so much for being super nice knowing it's something we need to talk about."

"What?" Rachel shook her head, "I'm sorry. Talk about what?"

"Call Quinn."

"Quinn? Why?"

"For real? She's your wife."

"And? This is my choice. Why do I need to call Quinn?"

Brittany stepped into Rachel's space so suddenly that Rachel stepped back.

"Rachel, no. Don't be scared of me ever. Bon just told us some super scary stuff about this ginormous decision you're making for you and me and Mike. Don't you understand that? If you say yes, it's me and Mike too. We'll totally do it but it's you, Rachel. We don't matter but you matter the most in my world—in our whole family's world. Please call Q. She's in charge. She'll tell us what to do. Please."

Rachel called Quinn and laboriously explained the decision they were making. Laboriously.

They were on speaker phone and Santana was with Quinn and it seemed to take forever.

"Britts?"

"Q?"

"San's looking at me and we know what we know. Can you and Mike do this?"

"It'll be insane for us and especially Rach. Super insane for her. But yes."

"Then yes. Bonifac Vacek. Santana and I can hear what they want. My wife will be happy to grace your musical with her presence. As will Brittany and Mike. But only once Santana and I meet you and look you in the eyes. Otherwise no."

"Quinn!"

"What? Are you a married woman or aren't you, Rachel?"

Rachel felt such a surge of warmth with those words, she didn't even know what to think. She was being taken care of and by Quinn and yes, maybe it wasn't the most feminist-whatever to want that but she wanted it so badly it made her heart ache.

"Of course I am, Quinn."

"Then schedule the meeting."

Bon watched them as Rachel rang off.

Their body language said everything. Brittany and Mike obviously knew it was done and dusted. Rachel didn't seem to. Or perhaps she did and didn't want to.

Bon smiled because he was not a fool. Theatre existed because people needed theatre. Obviously Rachel needed to believe that Quinn's opinion mattered first and eclipsed her own and somehow Brittany understood, perhaps unwittingly, this enough to enable that fact. And it didn't matter that he could see Rachel was completely in charge of everything. She couldn't perhaps believe she was or needed to believe otherwise—for whatever reason.

There it was. Theatre!

If they were even half what Irena told him they were, it would be a venture out of retirement well worth making.

And then Brittany surprised him. Him!

"Bon? Me and Mike talked about it and I know we're the choreographers and so we're the bosses of the dancers and it's not normal to do it and we know it but we have to dance the show, too. Sorry but that's how it has to go."

"That's an investment of perhaps three years."

"Right?" Brittany shrugged. "It's her first show on Broadway. But maybe not three. We can totally train people and drop out after the first year if they come correct. Right now, if anyone except me or Mike lifts Rach dancing, I sort of feel like my heart's doing something funny. This is going to be so hard for her and we're super protective. And one more thing?"

Bon liked this Brittany person. Perhaps it was not Rachel who was in charge, after all. "Yes?"

"I don't like to say this because it'll make Mike and Rach totally flip out but you were so super cool with Rach telling her stuff you didn't have to I think I should be honest, too, okay?"

"Very well."

"I know nobody I know would tell you this but I'm going to say it old school. I'm mentally retarded, Bon."

He ignored Rachel and Mike's reactions although they both looked viscerally shocked—as if Brittany had said something that, at all costs, couldn't and mustn't ever, ever be said.

He looked from them into her sweet and earnest eyes and realized in one second how hard it must be for her to have to pretend for people who couldn't face a truth she could.

"And so, Brittany? Is this something that makes you unable to choreograph?"

"No—it makes me better, I think, actually. You normal guys just put layer, layer, layer on top of everything you do and say but I see everything bone simple. Mike's the tech but I'm the emotion. I see stuff you guys can't because you're too smart. Me and Mike together can make this hyper-real and direct."

She clasped her hands together and looked him squarely in the eyes, "I just wanted you to know who I am because if I don't you'll keep talking to me and after about two minutes you'd get a weird look in your eyes. That would mean what it always means and I know it. You'd be all like 'What's _wrong_ with her?' I get that all the time. I'm dumb but I know what that look means. So I guess I want to skip that part with you because this is my first real job and I want to be fair with you. Plus you seem cool and I think you can deal. So I'm retarded, Bon. Whatever. I'm a choreographer Irena Sokoll will spend millions of bucks to help." She shrugged, "I got it like that for a reason, I promise."

"Very well. Thank you for telling me. But that word means nothing to me about my belief in your capability or talent."

"Seriously?"

"Very seriously."

"Wow. Thanks, Bon. You're, like, the first person I ever really came out to with the real words." She paused and then smiled at him. "Seriously. I feel so much better and like you can't even know how much—it's like all my life I've had to sort of just—wow. Thank you so much."

"Brittany."

"Rachel?"

"I don't—why haven't you talked to us about this?"

"You're kidding, right? Like I could talk to any of you guys about being retarded. Don't tell San I said this. And I seriously mean ever. I'm out to one person. That makes me feel good and proud of myself. And I'm totally not wanting to be mean but shut up about it now please."

Bon nodded. "Yes. Rachel. It was a professional courtesy Brittany was right to extend to me. Don't make it anything else. Perhaps that is what your friend needs."

Brittany stood and extended her hand to Bon. "I'm sorry this has been like the least professional meeting maybe ever but we're super young. It may take some time but we'll get it together."

"I'm counting on it."

Brittany smiled. "Watch."

* * *

**One Month Later**

"I can't do this, Brittany!"

"You can!"

Rachel stomped away from her in tears. "What aren't you hearing? I AM TELLING YOU I CAN'T!"

Mike didn't know what to do—she had begun to shout at them the day before and he could accept it with him but it was bizarre with Brittany. One hour into rehearsal and Rachel had completely sweated through her t-shirt and shorts. They all had. This was the big—and brilliant—huge show-stopping number and they'd made it brutally difficult.

Bonifac Vacek had seen many things in his sixty years in the theatre but he'd never seen three people work harder. They were even more talented than Irena had told him. Brittany and Michael were making Rachel look like the dancer she was not and she was a singer to die for.

Enough was enough.

"Stop this now!"

"Bon—just a couple more times and she'll have it."

"No, she won't. No! You and Michael are thinking like dancers. This can not be done the way you're doing it. I'm your director. I know what I know. You're torturing her for nothing. It can not be done."

He moved into their rehearsal space. "You are asking her to go from here," he walked downstage, "to here…doing so much on the floor and not understanding she needs oxygen to sing that last huge line. No. It can't be done. Find a way to get her where she needs to be and leave her the breath to do her job—which is to sing. She is a professional and she is putting up with you two because she loves you and thinks she has to. I perhaps did not explain something very important to you because professional choreographers don't need this explanation. You are doing a wonderful job creatively but you are putting her through hell because you don't know what your job is."

Brittany and Michael felt tremendously abashed because Bon was obviously really angry.

He pointed at Rachel, "Your dancers are yours. Kill them if you want to. But this woman's reason to be on the stage is to sing and to act. That goes for all of our singers. You dancers are athletes and you're not thinking. She doesn't just need to get through your dance. She has to dance what you're giving her and she has to sing. Do you understand singing means breathing? She'll have to do this not once but eight times every week. You have no conception of how difficult that is. None. It is brutally taxing work. It is your job to make that possible for her. She needs moments to breathe. She must look like she's dancing as hard as the rest of you but she can't be—she must conserve herself for song."

He pointed at them. "Understand me? You're professionals. That's your job. Those are my notes. Stop badgering her for not being able to do something because it's you who are failing her, Brittany. And you, Michael, are no better. Take ten and then you can tell me how she's getting downstage without suffering and able to do her job when she gets there."

Rachel was now sitting on the floor and wiping her eyes. Brittany walked by and she knew it wouldn't be pro to just grab her and hug her so she lightly tousled her hair. "Sorry, Rach. I didn't understand. We'll fix it."

Mike tapped her and said, "Yeah. Sorry."

"Okay."

She flopped onto her back on the floor. "Bon?"

"Yes, little diva?"

"Broadway _sucks_."

He smiled.

* * *

**Two months later, they added the rest of the cast.**

One week in, 19 year old Jon Eastman got it. He really did. This was his first Broadway show. He was the male lead and that was thrilling but everything was obviously stage central on Rachel's character. And he got that. He really did.

But this was brutal. The dancing was brutal. Rachel wasn't a dancer and it didn't seem fair that she just seemed to get it and Brittany and Mike liked her and took care of her.

He'd fucked up time and time and time again and finally Bon called time.

He wanted to cry or scream. Brittany appeared next to him and he knew she was going to say something bad and he wanted to cry. Or scream.

"You're totally almost there, Jon. You're trying too hard and you're scared and I know that."

He didn't want to cry. Pros didn't cry.

"When everyone goes home, stay and I'll help, okay?"

"Really?"

"Sure. It's my job to make your job easier."

He stayed and Brittany laughed at him and jostled him and joked with him and it was still brutal but it was understandably so. Brittany talked like a Valley girl all the time but she and Mike were scarily good. She was so un-scary and so…very…very pretty when they were by themselves.

They worked for an hour and she smiled when he finally danced through what he'd been messing up all day.

"Again."

He did it.

"Again and sing this time."

He did. He could scarcely believe it.

"See? It's hard but you can do it. You should be super proud of yourself."

"Thanks!"

"You're welcome. No problem."

They both grabbed their bags. Another late night.

"Jon, I think I need to remind you of something, okay?"

"Sure."

"You're super cute but I'm married. Really married. And the only person I know who's as married as me is Rach. So no dice. You can look but don't start catching feelings, okay?"

He blushed because he had a vicious crush on Rachel and it was so obvious she could see it. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. At all. It's normal. I like looking at pretty girls and boys too. Just keep it real. It won't happen."

He pulled himself to his full height and shouldered his bag, "I will. Thanks, Brittany."

"You're welcome."

The next day, Jon nailed his dance sequence and Rachel was so relieved that she hugged him. He smiled at Brittany and immediately let Rachel go.

He got it. He really did.

* * *

**It was the hardest and worst time of their lives.**

* * *

"Eight pack, Q"

"No shit, B. Got it."

* * *

Quinn made their usual protein smoothie and relegated Rachel to Santana and Brittany's bedroom. Sleepover with Santana.

"You have to chill, San."

"How am I supposed to fucking chill? She's opening on FUCKING BROADWAY in three weeks, bish!"

"She's my wife. I sleep with her. I know that."

Santana's face fell. "Oh my God. She's scared, isn't she?"

No point in lying. "Terrified."

"No. Oh hell no. I'm not even. Just FUCK this. My hobbit's scared. I can't drink this shit. No. I gotta do something...FUCK THIS!"

Quinn had never seen Santana so frightened in her life. For Rachel. Which made her heart do something very funny in her chest.

She levelled her voice. "Santana Maria. Who's in charge?"

Santana lowered her chin and her voice, "You, bitch."

"Right. Drink."

Santana took a sip. "I don't think I can do this."

"We have to. She has to—so we have to."

Santana took another sip. "I can't stand it, Q. She's so little."

"She's bigger than anyone we've ever known."

Santana sat with that and then she smiled. "Yeah. She is. I think I have an idea."

"Hit me."

* * *

**Opening Night**

Rachel sent flowers and personal messages before anyone could send them to her.

Bonifac Vacek: You have made me so much better than I could have imagined I could be. On the way, I have cursed you and cried over you so many times. I'll do my very best for you tonight. If it goes badly, it was me. If it goes well, please know that I know it was entirely you. I will always be indebted. Rachel.

Irena Sokoll: Ms. Sokoll. Thank you. You were right—when you were so mean when I was sixteen. You were right. But you knew and know that. I can barely handle it now and married at twenty but this is so much harder and painful than I imagined it would be. You knew. I won't fail you. When I bow tonight, it will be for everyone who's helped me but it will be for you. Artist to artist.

Dad and Daddy: Big night, huh? I can't believe it's here and yet I can. You made me believe in myself when everyone else didn't. What makes me so happy is that this is finally just something I'm doing tonight. It's a big deal but it isn't and I can feel that. You've never cared about what I could achieve—because the fact I just existed was enough for you. I really understand that now. Thank you and I love you so much.

Judy Fabray: Thank you for knowing a 16 year old girl can need a mother. I'm so grateful you took that spot for me. I love you.

Mike Chang: Thank you, Michael—and thank Tina for putting up with your absence. I feel safe with you and graced by your talent and presence in my life. I'm so grateful you're dancing with me tonight. I love you.

Brittany Pierce-Lopez: I love you. I want to say so much more but I can't really. Everything boils down to I love you. I'll feel so incredibly honoured to be sharing a stage with you tonight.

Santana Lopez: I love you, Santana. So much more than I could ever say and as fiercely as you love me. Thank you, ese.

Quinn Fabray: Everything I am or do is yours, Quinn. Tonight will be what it will be. Before the curtain opens, I'll know what happens won't matter. I'll come home to you, which is, believe it or not, more important than the stage. I love you, Quinn Fabray.

* * *

Before they hit the stage, Brittany sought out and finally found Rachel in a corridor. "Rach, just remember it's just a super long Glee number. With way better dancers."

Rachel laughed.

* * *

It took fifteen minutes for Bonifac to know it was a hit. He could see Rachel and everyone on the stage could feel it, too. He relaxed and enjoyed.

When that last, brutal dance and song were finished and the show was over, the audience leapt to their feet. They weren't just clapping—they were shouting.

Bonifac strode out onto the stage, to uproarious applause. He held out his hands and Jasper Evens and Irv Abramovitz, the writers, walked out and accepted their due. They stood back and Bon pointed to Mike and Brittany, who walked forward to an amplified level of appreciation. They stood back and let the dancers take their applause. The dancers smiled, bowed and then stood back and every actor/singer except for Rachel took their applause, which was thunderous.

And then Rachel took the stage and Bonifac began to cry because the audience was tearing the roof off of the building with their sound. They weren't cheering. They were truly screaming. And thank God. Thank God. He looked at Irena and she wasn't crying. She was nodding. As if she'd known it and hadn't worried a bit and perhaps she had and hadn't.

Rachel didn't know what she felt except she noticed that Mike and Brittany tore away and jumped off the stage, which caused the audience to gasp.

And then she gasped because security was doing something in the center aisle and in the front row and it was like Sectionals all over again…all over again in her head because she'd always wanted to be so hopeful and proud. She thought as she watched..."I'm marching my band out…I'll beat my drum…"

They were marching down the aisle. Her Glee Club. All of them were there. Quinn, Santana, Brittany, Artie, Noah, Finn, Mike, Matt, Tina, Lauren, Sam, Mercedes, Kurt and Mr. Schue. In front of the front row. Applauding her.

She looked at them. Really looked at them for what seemed like a long time although she knew it was only a few seconds. She nodded. Because yes.

She deserved this. Yes.

She bowed to her audience. A very low ballet bow that took her to the floor and up.

The audience didn't let her go for twenty-five minutes. She was on Broadway. And all she found that mattered was that her Glee club had never let her go.

* * *

**Variety—Quick Reviews**

**Jim Newsome/New York**

**After All**

**After All opened last night and I feel strange, after so many years of reporting on things Broadway, even writing this. I'm not a fanboy for just anything. Even writing fanboy is ridiculous because I'm 56 years old. **

**I have to write I pity you—any of you who didn't see this last night. It was the most audacious and astonishing theatrical premiere I can remember. The music and libretto were stupendous. Simply put—a story of a bad girl trying to go good and failing spectacularly. Spectacularly. The choreography, by tyros Mike Chang and Brittany Pierce-Lopez—leapt off the stage. I'm not kidding, folks—the audience gasped audibly multiple times. It felt like 3-D without aid of glasses and you didn't need them—because it was RIGHT THERE. **

**That's the dancing. Rachel Berry, the lead, was very capably assisted by a cast of real talent, Jon Eastman notably.**

**Rachel Berry was so painfully perfect, she was otherworldly. She sang and danced with a ferocity I've never seen. **

**You weren't there? You missed the beginning of the brightest debut of any diva I've ever seen and the beginning of what will become a musical that is a staple of American theatre. **

**Truth.**

* * *

Rachel was reading reviews and found she didn't care. She was going to lunch with the Glee guys at one. She fell asleep and began to gently snore.

Quinn found her snoring on Variety.

Just what the press deserved.

She kissed Rachel's forehead.


	64. Chapter 64

**A/N: Disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**This one's short. Thanks for the reviews, people. You make this worthwhile. And yeah, in my ideal world, Ellen Degeneres will do her show until she's at least 95.  
**

**They are all now 22 years old.  
**

* * *

**The Ellen Show**

"Okay, next we have one of the—well—she's actually _the_ biggest pop star by far this year—and she almost never, ever gives interviews so lucky us, right? S Lopez."

Santana popped out in a black tank, skinny jeans and army boots. She smiled at the crowd, danced with Ellen and hugged her before she sat down.

"Hi, S."

"Call me San or Santana. S is just a stage name except for my friends."

"Okay, San. Is it hard to be known as an initial?"

"Initially."

Ellen smiled. "You sold a phenomenal 23 million albums last year and won nine Grammys this year. Congratulations."

Santana nodded. "Thanks. It was a huge blessing for all of us."

"And I have to say—you're the only person who's ever been on the show that has warned my staff ahead of time not to try to surprise or scare you the way I love to do. You said someone could get hurt."

The audience laughed.

Santana shrugged and smiled. "Can I be real?"

Ellen smiled, "Of course you can."

"It's like this, Ellen. It's funny what you do with other people but if you—or a staff member—put an unexpected hand on me trying to scare me I wouldn't be like most of your guests. My reflex wouldn't be to be all cowering and screaming and ha ha oh my gosh. I would turn around and nail whoever in the face with my fist. Hard. My reflex to fear is not flight—it's fight. And I gotta say, if anyone scared my Britts, they'd be on the floor and it wouldn't end until people called the po po. I'm just sayin'. It doesn't make good television."

Ellen was so surprised and amused by this she sort of just wriggled in her chair. "Okay. You're right. I've never been threatened by a guest before."

The audience laughed.

"I didn't threaten you. I described the end of a hypothetical scenario you were cool enough not to create for _me_ because it would have ended badly for _you_."

Ellen just stared at her. With her brilliant comic intuition of timing.

The audience erupted into laughter and Santana laughed along with them.

"O. Kay. You're both scary and really smart, aren't you, Santana?"

"Yes."

"And speaking of your wife Brittany, she and her dance partner Mike did the choreography for that huge hit 'Catch' and 'Forget' and they've been nominated for a Tony award for "After All."

"Good segue. And yeah. The timing's insane but well deserved. They're anyone's dream choreography team. Our partner Rachel Berry is also up for Leading in After. Good times."

"And your other partner, Quinn Fabray, just won a Golden Globe and was nominated for an Oscar for Joy Zone."

"Yeah. She was robbed for that Oscar. But anyway, that's the weird thing about film. The timing can be slow and gets all off. She ran Sundance with her first film, Aaron Summer's Just Don't, and it won the Grand Jury Prize but you guys are have already seen her second movie Joy Zone—and that's already huge so you know her. You'll know her better soon. She's amazing and I'm so proud of her."

"Can I ask you something sort of serious, woman to woman?"

"Sure."

"I only have Portia and I can't keep up. How do you keep up with three?"

Santana laughed. "That's something people misunderstand. I have one wife and two other people I share my life with. We've been together since we've been six years old. It's like staying at a summer camp that never ends. It's exactly that juvenile nearly every day with us, promise you."

Ellen smiled. "I have to say I'm so impressed by you. You've played your career so far very strangely but it's worked perfectly for you."

"How so?"

"You put out Catch and then Forget It and they were such monumental youtube hits that people were just waiting for more but you let a year go by before you put out an album. And it's exploded. And now you seem to be waiting again. Don't you want to tour?"

The audience clapped because it was true and they wanted a tour, too.

"Well yeah but we have priorities. Rachel's career comes first in my family. Completely. If Rach is on Broadway, Quinn's there. If they're there, me and Britts are. Q's turned down so many movies it's sick. So no—no movies for Quinn unless they're local and no tour for me until Rachel can go with. And that youtube thing's sort of boring. You really want to talk about that?"

"Sure. Tell us."

"I needed a revenue stream for my family so I made it a 'make them beg me' thing. After 450 million hits, the company I finally went with hit me up. Instead of making 2 cents for a dolla like all these other anxious wannabe 'I'll take anything you give me' pop stars, I'm making 67 cents because I know what I'm asking for, thank you and holla. I know how to keep the admin and PR prices low like music companies don't when they mess artists up and keep most of their money. My product is mine. Quinn directs all my videos and I pay for them myself. I pay for my web site myself. If MTV or whoeever whatever wants something, they come to me and my lawyer. And yeah, that's actually a lot of outlay for me but I don't owe my record company jack. They're strictly distribution so they don't get to jack me for what's mine. And like you said-it's not really traditional but we're not doing bad."

Ellen stared at Santana again and the audience laughed. "Wow. Okay. Again? You're sort of scary."

The audience laughed again.

"Thank you."

"So what's next for you guys?"

"Just gigs here and there. Britts and Mike are off After now and they sprint around a little here and there in the ATL and here in LA doing their stuff. Rach is in the Apple until the end of the year. So we're all there, too. We keep our family tight."

"Or people get hit in the face?"

The audience laughed and Santana smiled. "Absolutely."

Ellen liked her. Everyone could see that. "So you're going to sing for us?"

"Sure am but I brought a surprise for you. Don't hit me, sistah! I brought my people. So how about playin' a little Catch?"

Ellen looked around and Brittany and Mike stepped out onto the stage and waved.

Ellen grinned and said, "No way! Really?"

"Way. And yeah. Wanna catch? Dance with us people!"

They cranked up Catch and and Ellen joined them in that new iconic dance. Joyously.

* * *

**Vanity Fair Magazine**

**Quinn Fabray, by Ariel Washington**

* * *

In my career, I've interviewed interesting and/or important people many times. Professionally. This isn't going to read as professional. Sorry about that.

When I meet Quinn Fabray, I feel sad to report I can only think how beautiful she is. She doesn't even look real when she joins me for lunch. She's wearing a very simple white dress with a green cardigan. She's so beautiful, and I know I'm repeating myself, she doesn't look real. I'm writing this in the spirit of journalistic integrity. I'm as straight as a pin and my heart actually jumped just saying hello to her and shaking her hand. So there goes my journalistic integrity? We'll see.

The blogosphere has not been kind to Quinn Fabray in the past two months. Details of a troubled past—a teenage pregnancy—a broken home and bullying behavior were leaked to the web and went viral. Very seriously viral.

It gets even more complicated explaining the most simple details of her home life. She's a lesbian with a wife and two partners. That's also part of what has suddenly exploded on her and on them. The fact of who they are.

Her partner Santana is a musical mega-star. Her partner Brittany is a Tony nominee choreographer. Her wife, Rachel, is a fellow Tony nominee and with only one show to her credit is stunningly very nearly already a theatrical legend.

After only two movies, Quinn Fabray is already famous. Both have been enormous hits but at this point her fame is also informed by the people she lives with and the buzz that surrounds them and her past.

She's even more famously camera shy and press shy. She doesn't like doing press and she's talking to me under duress. We both know it.

I tell her I'm taping this interview and put my recorder on the table. She shrugs. Pleasantly.

She's more pleasant with our server, a young girl who recognizes her. She doesn't consult her menu. "I'll have the most robust vegan salad you can feed me. Vegan, not vegetarian. And half soda, half cranberry with ice with a twist of lime."

I order and she smiles. "Pastrami. Ah. I envy you. My wife's vegan so there you go. But it's hard."

"I'm sorry."

She waves her hand, "Don't be. I'll watch you enjoy and remember."

When the server brings our drinks, she takes a sip and says, "Let's get this done quickly. I was a bully to everyone in my school from age six to sixteen. Rachel Berry was my primary target. I got pregnant the first and only time I slept with a boy at age fifteen. I was tossed out of my home and was homeless for the entire term of my pregnancy. Every single person who knew me then knows this so it's actually sort of laughable that on the web it's being touted as some huge secret. It's not. What is not secret but is private is that I gave my child up for adoption and her adopted mother is Rachel's biological mother. If you print my child's name, my child's mother's name or my child's father's name, I will hurt you very badly. I know I'm on tape and you can print that and I won't care. I'm not kidding. And yes, my biological father gay-bashed Rachel and fractured her skull when we were sixteen. I'm reunited very happily with my mother and completely estranged from my biological father and my biological sister. Yes, I spent time in therapy because of all this. That's the dirt. All of it. Period. One quick paragraph. How I feel or felt about any of what I've just told you is absolutely no one's business but my own. Unlike some people in the public eye, I'm completely disinterested in sharing myself with others. And now you don't have any questions because I just gave you every answer, didn't I?"

She lifts one eyebrow and says, "Or else."

She smiles and is both the most beautiful and scariest person I have ever met. Remember, I've interviewed terrorists.

Minutes of silence because I don't have anything I can imagine saying and she's not helping.

When the food comes, however, she's gracious. "How's the pastrami?"

"Great."

"I bet. You bitch!" She smiles again, which reminds me she's merely envious as she tucks into her salad.

* * *

She will not let me ask things about her past. She's said all she had to say. That one paragraph is all I'm getting.

She will talk about her present.

"I understand people not understanding us. It's just us. We've been together forever and decided that's how we liked it. I know it's perhaps scandalous to have two lesbian marriages in one house but that's all it is. We aren't polyamory. No hate for people who are but we are very strictly two marriages and one household. I suppose people think the fact we're a family is weird. It's not to us. If it is to you or anyone else on this planet, I really don't particularly care."

Quinn Fabray looks at me. Believe me, people. She doesn't care what we think. At all.

* * *

This is the shortest profile I've ever written on anyone I've ever interviewed. Vanity Fair is going to pay me maybe ten bucks because this is so much less than I should be filing.

But I can't say more because she wouldn't give me anything more. I could make up things but remember the journalistic integrity I mentioned earlier? It exists. We talked about stupid things like my cousin's wedding, her hatred of toenail varnish and flavors of ice cream she loves but can't eat anymore.

She's a terrifically funny and warm human being.

I met Quinn Fabray and she told me exactly what she wanted me to know. She left me with nothing else. She's truly a lovely person but she has walls that weren't going down and I couldn't climb over. And who says I or anyone else should try?

She smiled at me when she left. A sad smile that seemed to say she hated knowing the fact she was pretty would almost make up for what she hadn't given me.

It didn't, really. Because you'd always want more from her. If you sat across the table from her, believe me. You would.

Quinn Fabray answered every one of our questions we don't even deserve answers to. Yes, most of all the rumours are true. And no, you still don't know anything about her.

This is the most unprofessional story I've ever written and the most I'll ever say about her.

She told you what you wanted to know. Leave her alone.


	65. Chapter 65

**A/N: Disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**They are all still 22. **

**Three chaps in three days?. Sue Sylvester? You think this is hard? Say something. I know you're reading. I can see the hits. Tell me you hate me. I'm not talking to you people who talk to me. I'm talking to people who don't. Say something. Geesh.**

**In my world, the Tony Awards (which do acknowledge and honor certain people) give them publicly. And they don't in the real world on tv.**

* * *

**It Gets Better Video—Rachel Berry**

"Hi! I'm Rachel Berry and you may or may not know who I am but I'm a singer and I work on Broadway and believe me that's better than school was for me."

She's been smiling into the camera but her smile disappears.

"For the first ten years of my school life I was bullied and socially isolated. So all those things some of you guys might remember—like birthday parties or sleepovers or even a stupid Valentine's card everybody gave everybody? I didn't have any of that stuff. I didn't get a text that wasn't from a parent until I was fifteen. I was always all by myself. That was really hard and sad for me. In a lot of ways, even though I really suffered for a very long time, I'm not a 'go to' girl for this issue. I went to therapy and my therapist only verified what I really already knew. It was their problem—the people who were hurting me—it wasn't mine. Absolutely not one thing about me was wrong. I'm actually a very kind and nice person. But I'm also loud and pushy and obnoxious. I always have been. That's just me and I can't help it. That didn't mean I deserved to be treated the way I was. I knew it then and I know it now. I always knew it would get better. If you don't know that, or feel like you can't go on another day? Please do. Just stick it out. You don't deserve anything mean anyone says about you or does to you and one day you will wake up in a place where you aren't called names every day and people don't throw food on you and don't draw humiliating pictures of you on bathroom walls and don't say horrible things to you on the Net where everyone can see."

She smiled again into the camera.

"I lived that for ten years. Day after day I was told so many things that weren't true and the most ridiculous and horrible thing I was told was that I should kill myself. I didn't listen. I refused to listen. Even if it's your own voice in your head telling you to do that, it's wrong. It's so wrong. One day, and it may be years from now, okay? I won't lie—maybe you'll suffer like I suffered every single day for years. But it will get better. My first day of high school, I had forty ounces of slushie thrown on me and everyone laughed. I had 158 slushies thrown on me in high school. I kept two changes of clothing in my locker every day just in case. And it hurt me and it made me cry when I was home and by myself but I can promise you I didn't really ultimately care because it didn't matter then and it doesn't matter now. I was gay-bashed at the age of sixteen and was hospitalized with a fractured skull. Didn't matter then. Doesn't matter now. They could hit me with anything and I still held my head up. Anyone who knows me from back then could tell you that. You can mistreat me or victimize me but I'm nobody's victim. Never. I don't deserve it. I deserve the very best life can give me. And guess what? You do too. You deserve to be who you are. Live—and you'll find out that anything anyone might say or do to hurt you doesn't matter and it does get better. I'm happily married, have a wonderful family and job and so many friends. If I'd listened to the voices of people who hurt me way back when I wouldn't have what I have now. It does and will get better. Take care of yourselves and breathe. At the end of the day breathe. Let it all go. I always did and still do. I am a happy person. You can be too. I promise you. It gets better."

* * *

**It Gets Better Video—Quinn Fabray**

"Hello, people. I'm Quinn Fabray. You might know me as blonde movie girl. Or not. This is going to be a sort of strange It Gets Better joint because usually people here are talking about being bullied. Fair enough and I feel so much more than I'm willing to say to you guys. If you're being bullied, listen to all these messages on this website and take them to heart. Please."

She took a few seconds and composed herself on camera.

"This one's different. I'm sending this out to the bullies out there. Because I was a bully for a really, really long time. So. Here goes. Hi, bully. You ever wake up and go to school and hurt person after person after person and then look at yourself in the mirror at school and just wish you were dead? Yeah. Sure you have. I did that every single day for ten years. I hated myself and wished I were dead for ten years. I was so sad and unsure and angry about me and my family and my life that I took it out on everyone else. For ten long years. So here's the message."

She leaned forward.

"It can get better. See? That's not the same message as the rest of the people here get. For the people you bully, it gets better as soon as we get the fuck away from them. For bullies, it _can_ get better with effort. It can get better. But _you_ have to make the change. And you know what? You may need help. I did. I went to therapy and got myself better. Because I didn't want to live the way I was living. I didn't want to live. But I refused to _not_ live and I refused to spend my life abusing other people. Refused. I got better. And you, bully. You? You can get better. I'm sending this out because if people stop being bullies, people you don't really want to hurt but can't help yourself, don't get bullied."

Quinn looked into the camera for a full ten seconds.

"So. Yes. That was a little raw for me. You. Bully? You. _You_ matter, okay? Fuck anyone who says otherwise. You're a human being who's valuable and completely worthwhile even if you torture other people because you can't wrap your mind around understanding who you are in this world. But listen up and hear me because there's a big IF here. ONE BIG I. F. Only and I mean ONLY IF you stop hurting people. Now. About a year ago I asked the therapist I went to for this stuff when I was a kid to help me and she's been kind enough to work with The Trevor Project hotline to provide resources for all us people who are bullies. Because we need them. We need help too, okay? Don't be ashamed—and I know I was and I know you are. Don't be. Just call them."

Quinn looked off camera and took a few deep breaths.

Then looked back.

"It's not easy. I know that. I promise you that not one of the people I went to school with remembers me completely kindly. I was a very angry and confused person when I was in school and that made me a vicious person and I made everyone I knew suffer. You can't know how much. Or how much I suffered because I did it. If you are suffering because you're hurting other people, don't ever think suicide's an option. You can get help. The people you've hurt and all the things you've done won't magically go away and yeah, you'll have to face them and that might not be pretty. But the most important thing, the very most important thing, is to stop hurting people, especially physically or even with words. Now. Today."

Quinn wiped her eyes.

"Today. Because you're hurting yourself, too. Stop hurting yourself. People never deserve to be bullied but only someone like me who's been there and done that can tell you that you don't deserve to be a bully. If you try to stop and can't, don't get down on yourself. Get help. Call The Trevor Project today. It'll be worth it. Because it can get better. It can absolutely get better. The coolest thing to know about this really hard situation for you—and for me back in the day? Maybe ten to twenty kids will sleep happier tonight if you stop. Think about that. You'll be making people's lives lighter and happier because you're simply NOT doing something. Not doing something. It's the easiest thing on Earth, when you learn to get used to it. It can get better. Promise. I'm a happy woman here to tell the tale, okay? Bully to bully? Please. Get help and get some peace. It's out there and I have it but it's really still only one day at a time for me, sweeties. You can do it—one minute, hour or day at a time, too. It can get better."

She kissed two fingers, made a peace sign at the camera and smiled.

* * *

Brittany and Santana watched the videos with Rachel and Quinn. None of them knew what either had said. They watched Rachel first and hugged her as it played.

They watched Quinn second. And didn't touch her.

Rachel marched out of the room when it was over.

Quinn smiled and nearly actually laughed. "I think that meant she liked it." They smiled at her. "Don't make fun when she comes back. I mean it."

Santana just rolled her eyes, "Please. We got the drill. Hobbit, year sixteen. Fuck. Good job, Q. And her, too. When she's through pouting."

* * *

**Chocolate Milk. Vlog 67**

Kurt loomed large in the computer camera before Mercedes shoulder-blocked him.

"First broadcast from sunny la la. "

"Don't be so gay—we're in Los Angeles, people."

"Are you saying something's wrong with being gay?"

"As if. I live with you. Broadcasting gossip for Los Angeles sort of already screams gay, right? No need to oversell it."

"I don't know why I love you."

"Yes you do, bitch. Hi—this is Mercedes Jones and Kurt Hummel broadcasting from holla! Los Angeles!"

Kurt raised a hand and said, "Testify."

Mercedes did. "It was like this. Our girl Santana watches our vlog and she just busted in when we graduated at OSU and said, 'You're in Los Angeles now, bitches.' So here we are."

Kurt nodded, "Actually, to be fair, and I don't like to be but will. Santana named our vlog three years ago. She was drunk at a party at the time and said, 'Please—just do gossip on the net and call it Chocolate Milk—You Know You Like It. I'd read it.' So hear we are."

"What's totally amazing and a web exclusive is that she's debuting her next song here at our site. I can't even."

Kurt nodded and looked into the camera, very much more serious than Mercedes. "Santana Lopez is debuting her next single on our site because she loves us and wants to take care of us. It's an honor and a privilege to have a friend who cares enough for us to want to give us something she doesn't have to."

Mercedes immediately wiped a tear from her face. "Damn! If you put it like that, Kurt. Thanks, San."

He rolled his eyes. "We've been friends for sixteen years and still. I'm the girl."

"Please. You're totally the girl."

"And that makes you what? The clueless dumbass jock?"

Mercedes looked around the room and then into the camera. "No—that's your boyfriend."

Kurt slapped her arm. "Bitch!"

She lifted a hand and waved it. "No. Burn."

They looked at each other and laughed.

"This from the front. Mercedes hijacked her boyfriend and made him bungee jump against his will."

"You know what? My Matt's one thing but I won't even about David."

"You know what? Thank you! Mercedes has now shown she has a modicum of discretion and I'm actually gobsmacked."

"Whatever. Killin' you after this."

"No you won't. Let's get to the gossip. Mercedes Jones—let's parse the last week. Fashion! So little fashion!"

"Right? You know what? I don't even know what these bitches been thinkin'—let's do it!"

* * *

Santana watched and laughed. Bank next for these guys. Her lawyer was on it like a rocket.

* * *

**Six Months Later**

**Tony Awards**

It was Kurt and Mercedes' first live mic event. They'd been doing spots for months but they'd begged ET for it and they'd gotten it. It wasn't the Golden Globes or the Oscars. It was the Tonys and it was smaller but the powers that were didn't know that it was bigger for them.

They were enjoying falling all over themselves for every person they met. Entertainingly.

Finally, someone they knew! Quinn appeared looking to them like a ferocious angel from hell. All in white and fierce but she moved toward them first. "You guys!"

The way she was acting was something Kurt knew was only for them and he felt like crying because she was being so open and sweet. She hugged them. "Mercedes! No way! Now _that's _a dress!" She looked into their camera. "See how it's done? And Kurt—you look marvelous, baby boy." She put her head on his shoulder and hugged him tightly.

He honestly wanted to cry. "Quinn Fabray. Wearing Alexander McQueen."

"Bingo."

"And no jewelry."

"Nope. Tonight all I wanted was my wedding ring and my promise ring. Rachel's wearing the queen's jewels, though. Wait for it."

"Where is she?"

"I have no idea. She's working it. And she just sort of said, 'Go!' because you guys know how I am."

"S and B?"

"Just hanging around and talking to people. They all like this stuff. Can I just hang here and interview people with you?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm in."

The next person who approached them was a young costar in a highly acclaimed show. She wasn't nominated for anything but she came to be seen.

Quinn took the mic from Mercedes. "And next up, Johanna Gerstin, who was marvelous in 'Isn't It Wonderful.' Wearing what I'm pretty sure is Vera Wang."

Johanna took one look at her and did a total deer in headlight. "Quinn Fabray." That's all she said. Full stop.

Mercedes grabbed the mic from Quinn and talked to Johanna. "Sorry girl. Don't even. We been doing that all our lives with Q. I've known her since first grade and I still flail if she looks at me crosswise. She's too scary to do this shiz. What's she was saying is you look slammin', right Q?"

Quinn nodded and laughed. Prettily. But only for the camera. Kurt could see it hurt her feelings she couldn't speak to someone she admired without making it too big or too much. Kurt wondered why he'd never understood she couldn't speak to anyone without this attention. But the cameras were on them. He smiled at her and nodded. And she at him.

He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek.

She whispered, "Don't get sentimental."

Mercedes was still talking.

He hugged her tighter and whispered. "You're my favorite bully ever."

She giggled. "Do you understand how crazy this is? What are we doing?"

They dissolved into laughter and he kissed Quinn on the lips and they laughed again.

Mercedes said, "Wha wha? My boy's kissing Quinn Fabray! Hold up! What's going on!"

They both laughed at her and Mercedes looked into the camera and said, "You know what? I hate these people. Serious up."

And then all of them laughed.

* * *

Six minutes later, Rachel appeared and Quinn drew back to give her space.

Kurt's jaw dropped. "This—you're like—no."

Mercedes didn't do much better. "No way. I can't even. No!"

Rachel smiled at them and took Kurt's mic. "Hi guys!"

He took it back. She was wearing jewelry that stunned him and her dress was all glittery and doing things he understood but didn't.

"Are you serious? You look like a princess."

She shrugged. "McQueen and Harry Winston for the win."

"I'm seriously beside myself, Rachel. I know that in reality Mercedes seems to be beside me but it's in reality me."

Mercedes nodded. "Right? Double down that, girl."

"Thanks."

"You know what? If you don't win, I think Ima stab someone."

Rachel looked into their camera. "Folks at home? I've known Mercedes since we were six. That's not hyperbolic on her part. She's just that scary."

She smiled at Mercedes. "No worries about winning or losing."

Mercedes immediately toned it down. "I know that, Rachel."

Rachel looked at them fondly, grabbed Kurt's mic again and looked into their camera. "You guys? Did you know these two people are some of the best singers I've ever known? Let's hit it." She just didn't seem to care.

She opened with one a cappella verse of Chain of Fools, gave Kurt his mic and he and Mercedes sang for her. And everyone on the red carpet stopped. Stopped and watched and listened to them. She laughed, took Kurt's mic and said, "These two are what I'm talking 'bout."

She gave Kurt his mic, winked at the camera and left.

Mercedes looked into the camera and said, "That's Rachel Berry, people. She does what she wanna and we sing when she says. Always have. If she says jump and sing we do. I can't even believe that's still true. Just damn."

Kurt laughed.

* * *

And the Tony for Best Choreography goes to…Brittany Pierce-Lopez and Mike Chang!

Mike stood and gave Brittany his arm. All of their loved ones were thrilled.

When they got to the podium, Brittany spoke very quickly. "Mike doesn't like to talk. He's left it to me and anyone who knows me knows that's crazy. We need to thank Irena Sokoll first. Our mentor since we were five. We both love you, Irena, but seriously I love you and you know what I mean. Bonifac Vacek taught us what it was to be what we should be. Thanks to our dancers and all of our actors. Quickly? Thanks to the Chang family, Mikes' fiancée Tina and the Cohen-Chang family and the Pierce and Lopez family. We have to thank, professionally and personally, Rachel Berry. You have been perfect. We would do anything for you and risk anything for you. I sorta think we did, actually."

The audience laughed.

"Q? We love you. Personally, you mean home to me always. Santana? Mike won't care and I know he knows this award is for you. You've made this possible for both of us. From way, way back when we were kids. You've always made everything real for us since the day we met you. I was three when I met you. He was five. And you've taken care of both of us every day since then. We love you, Santana Lopez."

Santana shielded herself in her arms and cried. Quinn looped a casual arm around her.

Nothing to see here.

* * *

**The Tony for Best Performance by a Leading Actress in a Musical**

Rachel Berry.

She didn't cry. She only nodded. Everyone around her was suddenly crying but that didn't matter. She kissed Quinn and Santana and Brittany wasn't there because she had to be backstage but when she got to the platform, Brittany appeared. And waved away the helpful guy who helped woman in long dresses walk up stairs. She helped her and Rachel kissed her.

She took the Tony and said. "Wow. I've accepted this award every night of my life since I was three."

The audience laughed.

"That's tragically true. First? I know I have to be quick so thank you Irena Sokoll and Bonifac Vacek for giving me this opportunity. I thank every dancer and singer in this production. I can't forget our crew either. All of you make us look like we're real. Personally and again I know I must be brief? My fathers Eric and Jacob and my mother Judy. I love you. Michael. I love you. Brittany and Santana. My life is yours. You have to know that. But Quinn? My Quinn."

She held her Tony and looked at it. "Thank you, Quinn, for creating a space in my heart where this is not the goal of a lifetime. I'm so proud and honored to win this but now I can just put it on a shelf in our home. The home where I live and you love me. That's all that matters to me now. Thank you."

Her family cheered. Quinn and Santana cried like their hearts were breaking.

Because they were.


	66. Chapter 66

**A/N Disclaimers from Chapter One apply.**

**This is extremely short. Sorry. And yes, I'm still staring at you. Filing my nails. Four chaps in four days. I feel the love from some of you but c'mon now. C'mon. (laughing)  
**

**But seriously. ****This is a snapshot of them at 23 years old. I hope you enjoy it.**  


**And remember this is SEVERELY AU, so the whole Quinn/Puck/Shelby/Beth debacle in Glee canon never happened in my world.**

* * *

**Lima, Ohio**

A seven, very nearly eight year old Beth was standing in front of Quinn. And Puck and Shelby.

She had brown hair but fair skin and hazel eyes. She was perfect. And this was the first time they'd interacted since they'd given her up.

Beth stared up at Quinn. "You're my mother."

"Shelby's your mother."

"No. She's my mommy. You're my mother." She pointed at Puck and he was so horrified and thrilled he didn't know what to do. "You're my father."

Quinn knelt down to be at eye level with her child and Puck joined her. "I am. He is."

She looked at them for what felt like forever but then she tentatively reached out and touched his hair. "You gave me my hair. It's the same color."

Tears fell from his eyes. He wanted to speak but he choked back his words. Beth watched him and saw it. "You can talk to me, Noah. You're my father."

He smiled because he wanted to scoop her up and kiss her but he knew that couldn't be right. Not yet.

"I gave you my hair but this one," he shoulder-bumped Quinn, "gave you your eyes and your skin and your beautiful smart self. Don't think your mommy hasn't told us how smart you are."

She smiled. One tooth was missing. "I'm reading at high school level!"

Puck sighed, "Beth—_I _don't even read at high school level and I'm way outta high school."

She looked at him and put her hand on his cheek. "It doesn't matter. You're my father. I'm happy you're my father and thank you so much for making me and I was really glad when Mommy told me it was time to get to know you. She's showed me pictures forever but now you're here."

He kissed her hand and didn't know what to say so he didn't say anything. He settled for smiling at her.

She returned his smile, dropped that hand, turned to Quinn and faltered, "I want to touch you, too, but I'm scared."

Quinn had refused herself the right to cry, "Why, sweetie?"

"You're so perfect it feels like if I touch you, you'll go away."

"I'm _not_ perfect and you_ can_ touch me. I'm not going away."

Beth looked at her. "I can't believe it."

"What?"

"You're here. I'm sorry I'm scared of you."

Quinn smiled. "That's okay. Everyone thinks I'm scary."

"Don't be mad."

"I'm not at all. Never with you."

Beth regarded her for what seemed like a long, long time. "I know how babies get made and what sex is sort of but I'm just saying something different because that's better, I think. You made me with Noah and kept me in your stomach. And I know the real word's uterus but stomach sounds better."

"It does. I like stomach way better, too."

"My mommy might be mad I'm telling this but she's always told me beside my sister Rachel you're the bravest person she's ever known and that you had to love me so much to keep me because you didn't have anywhere to live because no one loved you enough to keep you like you were keeping me. But you didn't care because you were brave and you and Noah kept me safe and loved me enough to give me to her."

Beth sighed heavily.

"She's told me that story lots of times because I like to hear it. How brave you were for me. It makes me really happy and proud of you and even of me I guess because you loved me so much. I don't like to say this in front of Mommy but she's here so I have to. It makes me proud in one way but sometimes I think about you being little with me in your stomach with nowhere to live. I know you were brave because Mommy said so but you had to be scared and really sad probably and I feel so sorry that happened to you. I'm only seven but I'm not dumb. I know _I_ was what happened to you. I'm really sorry I did that to you, Quinn."

Watching this, hearing this, Puck and Shelby felt destroyed but Quinn just swallowed and smiled angelically at her child.

"Oh sweetheart, don't be. Please don't ever be. It's the other way around. _You _kept _me,_ Beth. You were my precious little baby and I _lived_ for you and sang to you and ate for you and kept and created you for nine months I will never forget. And you know what? I can remember you kicking me all the time."

Beth smiled shyly. "I kicked you?"

"Are you kidding me? Like a soccer player. But especially after I ate anything spicy."

"I love jalepenos."

"I love them, too."

Beth smiled and then she frowned. "Can I ask you something serious?"

"Of course you can. Anything."

"Are you happy, Quinn?"

Quinn paused, then asked although she'd heard and understood the question, "What?"

"Are you happy? I watch shows with you on them and stuff. You always look sad even when you smile."

Quinn looked into eyes that were exactly her own. Her daughter's eyes.

"I will always tell you the truth, Beth. I'm as happy as I can be. I promise I'm not sad but some people can't really feel happy the way other people can. I'm one of those people. But I live with happy people and I really love seeing them happy. I'm entirely content and absolutely at peace. That's the best I can feel and that feels good enough for me. Talking to you makes me as happy as I can feel, too. Please don't worry about my being happy. Happy's not a big deal for me."

Beth looked at her mother as if she was finally able to place a piece in her puzzle. "I think maybe I'm like that, too. I'm not unhappy. I have lots of friends and my mommy and our family loves me and stuff but I don't think I ever feel happy like other kids look like they do."

Quinn swallowed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe that's you. You probably got that from me. Sorry about that."

"Don't be. If I feel okay but not happy like other people are that's okay too, right?"

"Absolutely it is. "

Beth looked at her…and looked at her. "Can I touch you?"

"Of course you can."

Beth touched the pronounced dimple in her own chin and then tentatively touched the smaller one in Quinn's. "You really made me, didn't you? You're my mother."

"I did make you. And yes."

Beth hugged Quinn and held her tight. "Thank you, Quinn."

Quinn hugged her. "You are entirely welcome."

Shelby's eyes met Quinn's. There was relief and love and hope in Quinn's. Shelby looked at her incredibly beautiful and intelligent yet moodily incomprehensible daughter wrapped in the arms of the intensely complex woman who'd given birth to her. Genetics did actually explain a hell of a lot.

And explained why Beth knew exactly when to lighten a moment. She pulled away from Quinn and said, "Next time, bring Rachel and Santana and Brittany. I know they'll be so much cooler than you guys."

"Right?" Puck laughed and raised his fist, "Furious five for that, dog!"

Beth pounded his fist with hers and laughed.

* * *

**One Month Later. New York**

"I think I like sex more than most lesbians do."

Santana choked on her popcorn as she paused their movie.

"Hobbs? Seriously? We're watching a movie. No. Hell no. Overshare."

Brittany nodded, "Sorta kinda."

Quinn raised a hand, "Holla."

"Not going there, junior. Sorry."

Rachel stamped her foot. "You may start the movie but register me perplexed."

"Perplexed by what? So you like fucking. Hurray! You obviously got your cray cray on so you know Q will choke us unless we listen to you. But please say whatever in a way that won't make my Cap want to kill all of us for hearing it."

Rachel thought about it. There really wasn't a way to do that. "I love having sex with Quinn. A lot and frequently. We've been together seven years and I've read many, many tales of lesbian bed death that don't match my personal experience so yes. I'm perplexed."

Santana ignored the fact Quinn had just closed her eyes and flopped into the couch.

"And you felt the need to just announce that shit? During this movie. Seriously?"

Rachel thought about that for a few moments and realized it was slightly or probably entirely ridiculous. "Press play, Santana."

"No. Not yet. Let me give you grade school about this shit. You're young. You're in love. YOU are fucking FINE and Quinn is the finest woman on planet Earth. Why wouldn't you fuck all the time if you wanna? I'm glad you guys are happy in bed—or at least you are hobbs—Q's notably silent here."

Rachel thought about that two seconds and gasped. "Quinn! Are you—is there something wrong? Oh my God!"

Santana cackled wildly at the sheer predictability of that response and Quinn flipped her middle finger at her. "Fuck you, San. Everything's fine, Rach. I love making love with you right back. No worries, angel."

She glared at Santana. "Press play if you want to live. Who's in charge here?"

"You bitch." Santana laughed as she pressed play. And rolled her eyes.

Movie night at their house.

* * *

**Next time—and in a few days. They'll be 25. Big, fun stuff.**

**Thanks for reading and for reviewing.**


	67. Chapter 67

**A/N: Disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Oh, how AU this has become.**

**25 Years Old**

**Table Interview after AFI Screening of Two Women, One Man**

* * *

Okay! That was a movie. Holy...okay hi, people. I'm Adam Anders and I'll be trying to wrangle this into some sort of interview but it's probably going to end up being a conversation between the people we have at the table. As you can see, we have Joe Carson, your writer/director and his three co-stars, Quinn Fabray, Zac Sargent and Rachel Berry."

They were all seated behind a long table and all had microphones in front of them. They waved at the audience, who clapped and cheered for them.

"You liked it, huh?" Joe laughed as the audience cheered more loudly. "Great. Good to know."

"Okay, Joe—the question everyone always asks—how did this get off the ground?"

Joe had wild curly hair and he tugged at one unruly curl. "It was just an idea—and I guess everybody at some point has seen two people who are always so angry at each other that it's a weird kind of fucked up intense love. I'm sorry people. I curse like some people breathe. So I'm sorry ahead of time. I just decided it would be interesting to have two women bitch-fighting over a man and so much that the man became sort of an afterthought. And that could get boring and sort of cliché really quickly but in this they come to a huge realization that what they really want is each other."

Zac leaned forward, "I'm the afterthought, by the way."

The audience laughed and Quinn rubbed her cheek on his shoulder, "No you're not."

He kissed the side of her head. "I paid her to say that."

"So did you have any ideas about casting when you wrote it?"

"Not so much. I mean, It's a weird sort of romcom with a lesbian twist so I knew I'd have to go bankable which is sad but true. I saw Zac's first movie about the same time I finished the first draft of the script and thought he'd be perfect. He's incredibly talented but he's so _manly_ and he's got that 'I'm so handsome that fucking baby deer will approach me from the wilderness and eat from my hand' thing going on."

Quinn smiled but Rachel barked out a laugh and said, "Oh my God. That is so true."

"Said the girl with doe eyes."

"Quinn, you're wearing two rings. Behave."

"Yes, Rachel."

Joe looked at the audience and said, "Everything in life goes better if you just say yes, Rachel."

The audience laughed and Rachel stamped the floor under the table. "That makes me sound like a diva!"

Joe, Zac and Quinn just looked at the audience, who laughed harder.

"Fine."

Quinn let the joke go but then said very seriously, "Joe, it's funny but we _are_ joking. Rachel is completely professional."

Joe looked at her and smiled. "And that—_that_—right there is why I thought of Quinn for the role of Amy. She looks like she will fuck you up if you don't do what she says. And almost wants you not to so she gets to."

The audience laughed and Quinn smiled at him. "That is the complete and unabridged story of my life."

Rachel just raised her version of a Santana hand, "Truth."

Joe shoulder bumped Quinn. "Seriously. I wondered about who to cast for Amy and Quinn came to mind but I was hesitant about approaching her. What I really like about her career so far and I guess this is her sixth—yeah—sixth movie is that she never makes obvious choices. I watch her and it's like she's choosing a very Johnny Depp-esque 'I know I'm beautiful but you're not going to fuck me, Hollywood, into typical roles because I am.' She obviously says no to a lot of stuff so it makes what she says yes to all that more interesting. One thing that also seemed a little obvious about her even before I met her is that she hates being obvious. Because she's a lesbian, I wasn't sure if playing someone who falls for another woman would feel like stunt-casting to her."

Quinn grinned, "The stunt casting was my playing a vicious bitch._ That's_ the obvious part."

Zac pointed his index fingers at her and nodded.

The audience laughed.

Joe smiled at them and pulled his hair again. "So I just sort of floated it to her agent and I was sort of a little sick to my stomach when she agreed to meet with me."

"Be honest. Not because I'm talented or an actor you respect. Because I'm so pretty, right?"

He lowered his head, "Yes."

"Typical. And Rachel? Your part's coming soon, sweetheart. Don't fret."

"Thank you, Quinn."

Zac laughed and put his head on the table. When he raised it he just stared at the audience and whispered into his mic, "It's like this all. the. time. with these guys."

Joe nodded his agreement and continued, "When she met with me she had a lot of really helpful feedback about the script. And let me explain? Some of you guys are in the business. Some of you aren't. I'm a writer/director and for some people that means I'd be the biggest asshole you ever met. As in if there's a comma in the script, you'd better pause bitch. But I have a theatre background and an improv background so I like my actors to push back and mix it up with me. Not every director does. I do because for me, for _me_, the joy of making a movie is the collaboration of a bunch of artists. And I count the fucking craft wagon people as artists. It takes a shitload of people to make a movie and I may be the director but you'd better believe if the chow's late? I'm not important anymore. Anyway. Sorry. Segue. Quinn just nailed it and related to it and looked so fucking—yes, Quinn, beautiful—talking to me about my project that I didn't even know she was going for my jugular until she said, "I'll do it if you cast Rachel Berry as Naomi.'"

Rachel smiled and announced brightly. "We're coming to my part!"

Zac smiled fondly at her.

Joe shook his head. "I have to be honest. Yes, I'd seen her in After All and she's just—well—she's Rachel fucking Berry but she'd never done a movie. I knew she could act—fuck—that show was insane but it was dramatic and tragic and this was a comedy. But what could I say, right? I mean, if angelic being on Earth Quinn Fabray bats her eyelashes and says she might be in your movie, you have to at least let her wife read, right?"

"You act like I strong-armed you with my eyelashes, Joe."

"You did, Quinn."

The audience laughed.

"So—fuck this is weird. Am I talking too much?"

"You're a director, Joe."

"Thanks, Zac. You asshole. I'll punch you later. So I met with Rachel, Quinn and Zac and we ran through a couple of scenes with them and they all had natural chemistry and just hit it. But when I had Quinn and Rachel up together for a run through, Quinn said, "Do you mind if we just adlib this?"

Zac laughed. "Please can I tell this part, Joe? Because I was there."

"Sure. Run with it."

Zac leaned forward and said, "I swear to God— I'd just met these women. Quinn's this huge effin' star to me and Rachel is just—I saw her on Broadway and I was just 'I cannot believe I'm in the same room. With them!'"

Quinn leaned forward and whispered into her mic, "The lonely life of fanboys."

He grinned at her, "You are such a bitch."

"Uh huh. Continue, Zachary."

"Okay—like Joe said—we run through scenes together and I'm sweating, okay, because I think or hope or pray I'm sort of holding my own with these women in front of Joe who I also fanboy over."

"Really?" Joe asked as he tugged at his hair. "I didn't know that. Seriously?"

Zac lowered his voice, "My Kinsey Scale _fluctuates_ around you, dude."

Rachel burst into laughter at the look on Joe's face and Quinn lifted a fist which Zac pounded.

"Anyway, I'm telling my story. So Rach and Quinn are going to do a two shot and ask if they can adlib. And I'm the noob here and thinking—why adlib? The script's great—just say the lines. But OH MY GOD. And yeah, Lots of scripts have people antagonistic to each other falling for each other. Like Joe said, it's cliché. But when he said action, Quinn just took off. She got up in Rachel's face and said the meanest, craziest, funniest shit I have ever heard any human say to another in my_ life_ and Rachel just fired it right back. You guys just saw it in the movie. And I'll apologize for cursing because my mom taught me better. Obviously straight off the top of their heads."

He pointed at the audience. "You just saw the film. Tell me, you guys, that it wasn't so vicious—really _personally_ vicious—that you didn't all feel a little like assholes for laughing at it? They were so mean and laugh your ass off funny even in that first little take at this, that I could _not_ believe it. They just sort of..._effortlessly_...stripped the paint off each other. After Joe called cut, he said, "That's the movie._ Those_ two want to fuck each other."

The audience actually clapped because what he'd said was true.

"Rachel?"

"Quinn?"

"You're about to overshare. Don't."

"I was. Thank you"

"No problem."

Joe shook his head at them. "Yes. So. What Zac can't tell you is what Quinn whispered in my ear after that which was pretty much, "Your script is great but you're not really mean. I really am."

He shifted in his chair. "I just threw away the script in scenes between them and let them go. I actually really tried to add them to the writing credits but there are strange and esoteric rules about it and I couldn't. But I'm here to tell you and out and proud, if you thought anything in this movie between these two was funny or you winced hearing it even when you laughed? All them. And, full disclaimer, Quinn basically directed their first kiss and the love scene after."

Adam Anders liked a trouble free panel but he liked talking, too. "And—about that? Zac—how was shooting loves scenes with Quinn and Rachel?"

He put his head on the table again and the audience laughed.

When he lifted it, he leaned forward and said, "Making out with two gorgeous women. Not a bad day's work, people."

He waited for the laughter to die and he said, "Seriously? Both of them are fantastic. They're there with you and for you but they couldn't really be more different. Quinn is the most private person I've ever met but when she's with you in a scene as an actor, it's a little humbling, really. She just gives you the...I guess the word is courtesy—and you know what? I know it's her job but it feels like she's giving you a courtesy when she drops her shields and lets you inhabit a space and moment with her."

Quinn looked at her hands and whispered into her mic. "I left the twenty on the bedside table."

He winked at her, "Thanks, doll."

She kissed him on the cheek.

"That's my payday, guys. Next. Rachel."

"After Saint Quinn, I can't wait to hear how I stack up."

"Rachel, you're wearing two rings. Behave."

Zac sighed. "Like I said? It never ends. Rachel is completely different as an actor and hell, as a human. She's...just really...unguarded, I guess."

Rachel grinned, "Tactfully worded, Zac."

"Thanks, cutie. With Quinn you feel like she's giving you the world if she gives you anything at all. Rachel doesn't have _any _problem sharing the full force of..._her."_

He smiled at her fondly when the audience laughed.

"So it's like you're acting with a force of nature you can't deny. It's like this huge, crushing, deadly wave is coming at you and you know you better swim or die. And if that that sounds like I'm being a smartass about her, I promise I'm not. She's just—look at me—I'm 6'4" and she's 5'2", and again excuse my language, but she's still so much fucking bigger than I am. You can't deny her." He shrugged, "And you know what? I didn't want to. Who would?"

Quinn smirked at him. "Aptly put. I drown in Rachel every day of my life."

Joe jumped in, "I did, too. And people, don't think I don't know why Quinn did this movie. It was for Rachel. Rachel's gorgeous but she's not what the big Hollywood machine necessarily thinks of when they're looking for a pretty ingénue. Watching this film, I think you could all see she is completely fucking smoking. If Hollywood had any doubt about whether she's sexy, this film removes it."

Rachel giggled, "Thank you Joe! Feel free to keep praising me!"

The audience laughed and he squeezed her shoulder. "She is absolutely unique—the only person I've worked with like her is Tom Cruise."

Rachel did a double take and the audience laughed again.

"Like him, she has this very nearly supernatural laser-like focus. She knows her task and she commits completely—body, mind and soul—and nothing gets in her way. What is also her but not Tom is that she gets the joke. She's willing to slip on the banana peel for you. Her comedic timing is surreal and I don't think Quinn or Zac will mind me saying they had to run to keep up."

"Totally," Zac said.

"True story," Quinn agreed. "But Adam didn't ask about us as actors. He really meant love scenes. Who's the better kisser, Zac?"

Joe said, "Don't answer that, Z. That's lose-lose."

Quinn leaned forward, "I'll answer. Rachel's a much better kisser but I'm a lot softer."

Zac so immediately blushed bright red that the audience saw it. And laughed.

"I hate you, Quinn."

"No you don't, Zac."

Adam Anders tried again to reassert himself. "Speaking of love scenes, that first kiss between Amy and Naomi was one of the longest I've ever seen and I've seen a lot of movies."

Joe nodded and took the ball. "It was and they did the scene the way they wanted to but it was tricky for me. Quinn and Rachel and Zac are like a lot of actors. When they kiss on screen, no tongue. But with Quinn and Rachel, that rule was gone and we wondered if that would seem strange after the other scenes. But we decided that was sort of the truth of this story—they were more intimate with each other."

Adam did have a question he didn't know how to ask. "The kiss was really long."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Let me help you, Adam. Rachel's character pushed my character up against a wall and kissed her until she climaxed. What's your question?"

He really didn't have one he could actually ask. He thought it had looked real and wanted to know if it had been.

Quinn looked at him and laughed a not very nice laugh. "Naughty boy."

Rachel looked at Quinn, understood and changed the subject. "I'll tell you what was strange. It's strange to act intimacy on camera with the person you're intimate with in real life. With Zac, I felt completely and utterly comfortable and 'Let's go do this!' With my wife I had to kiss her and interact with her as if that wasn't, and I'm sorry baby, something I've been doing every single chance I get for the past nine years."

The look on Quinn's face made the audience laugh.

Zac leaned forward. "Quinn. Note that I'm not saying that's hot."

"Note that you get to live."

Joe laughed and said, "Rachel has a larger point, people. She and Zac hit the love scenes like champs and so did Quinn and Zac. Zac's word. Effortless. And you know what? I'll say it because I know there are a minority of people who don't believe lesbians can act straight roles. I defy you to tell me those women didn't look completely into doing what they were doing with Zac. They did because they're actors. Actors aren't straight or gay when they're acting if they're any good at all. And these people are pros."

Adam didn't actually know what to ask. "So the love scenes between their characters were adlibbed, you said?"

"Yes. Quinn directed. I just rode shotgun and watched something very beautiful."

Quinn was so embarrassed she just faked it, as she always did. "In the spirit of quid pro quo, the only thing about our love scenes true to our lives is how much Rachel's character talks in bed."

Rachel didn't do what Quinn thought she'd do. She didn't huff or stamp her little foot. She smiled, leaned forward and whispered, "I talk too much in bed."

Quinn immediately said, "No you don't, angel."

Zac laughed. "Whipped!"

"Shut up. And yes."

Joe said, "You know what? The love scene with Quinn and Rachel's characters. They made that so much more than I wrote it. I was basically writing these characters finally realize the reason they fight is because they want to fuck and they played that for me. Perfectly. But they just kept talking and talking because I gave them the space for improv. It was magical. Understand while their characters were trying to navigate fucking it was like watching two people fumbling around realizing they really hadn't ever hated each other."

Zac nodded vigorously.

"You get it with just tiny little grace notes of gestures and vocal inflection. You know they irritate the shit out of each other but they like each other and they might not just only like each other."

Joe tugged at his hair, "Quinn and Rachel are making light of it but it was an incredibly poignant scene to me—to watch these actors give characters a life I hadn't given them. I'd created them to discover, ha ha, they didn't want to fight—they wanted to fuck. That was me. But in their very capable hands, I found out my characters might have found love. Rachel and Quinn did that. I didn't."

Zac stood up and clapped. Joe stood with him and the audience joined in.

Adam said, "Wow. Great stuff. A question hearing this was adlibbed? Quinn, you've been very open about the fact that you bullied Rachel in school. You've actually taken the only high profile public stance I know of for bullies—to extend help to bullies. We've just watched this movie and a lot of what you said to Rachel's character was just like Zac said. It was so mean I couldn't believe what I was hearing. How did you two do that?"

Quinn turned to Rachel. "You or me?"

"We're fine, baby. You go."

"Okay. We didn't have any emotional blow back from this. Not only was I playing a character, it was a lot different than me back in the day. In bully mode, I was just vicious and I wasn't all that funny about it. I channelled our partner Santana for this role because she's always witty. She just likes hearing the words come out of her mouth."

Rachel agreed. "That's true guys. Santana once just cruised past me in the hallway and said so everyone could hear, 'Hey, dwarf. Did anyone ever tell you you dress like one of the bait girls for To Catch A Predator?"

The audience erupted into laughter.

Quinn put her head on the table and laughed until everyone just had to wait for her to finish. She lifted her head and said, "Sorry, Rach, but that's classic—and true!"

The audience laughed and Rachel smiled. "See? It's funny. Even if it's mean and directed at you, you have to admire it. Santana was almost always witty. Quinn wasn't. So the way Quinn played this character wasn't some sort of trigger for me at all. It was a character. If it sounded vicious—that's Quinn—funny—that's Santana. The amalgamation is a character."

Quinn nodded, "Absolutely. What I really liked about this was that Rachel is my wife—my equal—my love—and she knows it so she just hit me back with the mean. It was actually really cathartic to have her just slap me back verbally as hard as she wanted. She stomped me. But even that was a character because she's too nice to say all the crap she said onscreen. If you want to know the real deal? I can be and have been so much more awful than my character and she's always been so much nicer than hers."

Rachel nodded, "Pretty much."

"And can I just say that Zac, playing the guy that does finally get dumped after trashing these girls? He plays it so winningly. His character is such an asshole but you still grudgingly have to like him and you can still completely understand why these women would fall for him."

"Thank you, Quinn."

"You're very welcome."

There was a slight, seemingly long silence. In reality maybe five seconds.

Quinn said. "That concludes our AFI screening of Two Women, One Man. We truly appreciate your interest."

Joe said, "Everything's better if you understand Quinn's in charge."

"Fuck you very much, Joseph."

"Her charm school tried."

"Zac!"

"Quinn!"

Rachel stood. "I believe I have been extremely forbearing in this exchange. Thank you all for watching our movie. Very sincerely."

She stood and hugged Zac and kissed Joe on the cheek but ignored Quinn, who said, "Angel?"

"Whipped"

"Yes. And fuck you, Zac."

"Love you lots right back."

And the audience laughed yet again because the evening had been so much better than they'd ever expected. Rachel didn't leave—she popped into the audience and started taking pictures with people and giving autographs.

Zac slid up next to Quinn, "Are we in trouble?"

"No—she's feeling testy. Attention deficit disorder."

"Aww. She didn't get enough." Zac refused to laugh as he watched Rachel work the crowd. "I want to do the cabbage patch I'm so in love with your girl."

She laughed, turned around and hugged him."Me too. On movie sets, you always say you'll stay in touch. But I'll stay in touch with you."

"Back atcha, Harley Quinn."

"Okay—that was..actually sadly funny."

He tapped his nose and walked into the audience to interact.

Quinn watched them and knew she had to.

Once more into the fray, Fabray.

She smiled at the audience and joined them.


	68. Chapter 68

**A/N Chapter One Disclaimers apply.**

**They are now 26 years old. **

* * *

Movie Night

Santana handed Quinn a bowl of popcorn and said, "Q, me and Britts have something a little serious to talk to you guys about."

Rachel, who had been uncharacteristically lounging, sat up straight.

"And please? Please know if this isn't the time and maybe you need to digest and talk later, me and Britts will be okay."

Quinn didn't know what to say to that except, "Okay."

"We're twenty-six now and it's sort of getting about that time to ask if our family wants children."

Rachel would have spoken but one look at Quinn's face and at Santana's said no.

Quinn put the bowl of popcorn on the table. "Which means you want children."

"Yes—but we're a family—you get a say."

Quinn sank into the couch. "I have a child. I will never have another biological child. No. Beth will never see me making and keeping a baby when I didn't keep her. As for you guys? I'm fine if you want them."

Rachel put a hand on Quinn's arm and Quinn visibly settled looking into her eyes.

Rachel nodded and turned to Brittany and Santana. "Years ago I read Katharine Hepburn's biography and she said, and I paraphrase, she never had children because she was a star. And that children deserved to be the stars. I don't realistically think I can be what a child needs or actually—obviously—I'd be too much so no. I don't feel the need for biological children. But we'd love sharing our lives with your children. Of course."

Brittany smiled. "We sort of both thought that's how you guys would be. I want to carry San's babies. I don't want—" she pointed at her head and whistled, "_this _for them."

That was obviously out of the blue for Santana, who shook her head, "The _fuck_? Britts?"

"I'm serious, San. I won't even let you say no to me about this. I want to make your little babies inside me and that will make them mine too. But if I made a baby like me maybe he or she wouldn't get lucky enough to have a you. So no. Your babies."

That was so fucking sad for Quinn she made a joke of what was obvious. "Why do I think this is news to you, Santana?

"Why do I think you've been married seven years and haven't talked to your wife about kids?"

"Hmm. Let's…see. My first thought? I have a kid and her mother is Rachel's mother. The issue of motherhood sucks for both us. Sorry it's not our 'go to' topic."

Brittany sighed. "San—stop being mean because you're scared. You too, Q."

Quinn smiled gently. "Thank you, Brittany. You're right. I don't know what I'm supposed to say. Of course it would be a huge change for all of us but I'd love little yous running around. But no more than about four. I'm not feelin' the Brad and Angelina thing. How about you, Rach?"

"I am completely beside myself! When can we get started? And Brittany! You need a regimen of prenatal vitamins now!"

Santana smacked her forehead. "Fuck."

Quinn snickered, "Yeah—you just set yourself up for nine months of non-stop crazy. Who's baby daddy?"

"What? Obviously. Puck."

For so many reasons that made Quinn angry and all of them could see that. But she simply said. "Interesting choice. Why?"

Brittany almost spoke but Santana put a hand on her to stop her. "Every one of us loves him and we want every one of all of our children to have the same father. Got that?"

Quinn felt that—and Santana could see that. She semi-smiled and said, "I can't imagine what a mix of you and Puck will make, S."

"Good-looking ass-kicking motherfuckers, that's what. I've met Beth—if you could _crush _his dumbass genes and make that kid smart, I know I can." She lifted both hands as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

Brittany smiled at Rachel. "Can I ask you a favor, Rach?"

"Of course you can."

"It's a little weird, okay?"

"Okay."

"I know all sorts of stuff about IVF. I know you don't want a baby for you and Quinn doesn't want one either. But if you'd give me some of your eggs and San gave me some of hers? It'd be like lotto and both of you have the same eyes and the same skin and we'd never know and I wouldn't ever want to. It's just an idea."

Brittany turned to Santana and asked, "Is that bad?"

Santana had a lifelong history of being run over and flattened by Brittany's ideas. And unless they would hurt Brittany, she had a 100% record of never vetoing them. She ran her hands through her hair. And exhaled loudly.

"Naturally generally I'd just say pony up those eggs, little pony. But it's a huge thing to ask and it's your choice. Q? Ready for a little Rachel?"

Quinn, in a private place she wouldn't share with them, wanted nothing more in her life. She settled for saying, "I have a little Rachel."

"That you do." Tears welled in Santana's eyes. She wanted with all her heart to have a little Brittany or a little Quinn but they had Beth and they had Brittany and she understood they'd have to settle with that.

Rachel suddenly jumped in, "Oh my God! IVF! That means I don't have to research turkey basters!"

"It's like you're five."

"Shut up, Santana. Brittany! Folic acid! You need folic acid. Oh my God! You want my eggs! Maybe I do too! Let's go look!" Brittany and Rachel clasped hands and ran out of the room.

Moments passed.

Quinn looked at Santana, "Dad."

"Fuck you. Seriously. Britts wants kids. Is that okay with you? Please be honest. Now that your crazy and my hopeful's left the room?"

Quinn took a sip of her cranberry and soda. "Of course it is. It'll take our mind off things, right?"

Santana felt like Quinn had just punched her. "That's not…that's not why you have kids, Quinn."

Quinn tousled her hair. "It's why my parents did. And look how that turned out."

Santana took a very deep breath. Quinn could be seeming to be doing so much better and then…just…pow. "I promise you I won't let Britts have kids if this is how you're going to be about them." She couldn't believe she was actually beginning to cry.

She wiped her eyes harshly. "And yes we'll stay with you and yes Britts will be sad but we'll get a fucking puppy or something and she'll play along and pretend that's enough because she's not fucking stupid, Q. You better tell me right now. Are you going to be a complete…this—you? With our children? Tell me now. I'll laugh through Rachel's insanity with our children but I won't have our children raised by the HBIC. Tell me now and we can call it off."

Quinn wiped her eyes because she was crying, too. "I'll play nice. How about that? I can do that."

"Quinn—no. That's not what I'm asking."

"I don't think you understand, Santana, you're asking me for something I'm pretty certain I don't know how to give. I have two big red buttons psychologically. Every single thing about the idea of children pushes one of them but I wouldn't take that out on _them_. I'll play nice. I'm telling you right now I can and always will. For all of us. Who knows? Maybe I'll actually feel it when it happens but I promise I'll be perfect for our children. Maybe not me or even real. But perfect. I can do that. I'm an actor."

Santana felt crushed and she wasn't even surprised. "Quinn—that's just so—"

"No. Please don't, San. Please don't. You know me better than anyone. You asked me a question and I'm giving you an answer. You guys need to do this and we're a family. That gives me responsibilities I'm telling you I will accept. We both know I can suit up, show up and shut up better than anyone. Let's do it."

Santana stared at Quinn for a very long time. "Sometimes I don't know what to do with you."

Quinn wrapped her arms around her own waist, "What constantly surprises me is that you've known me all this time and still imagine there's anything you could ever do. You can't fix me, sweetheart. You can just stand next to me. I love knowing you're next to me. Even in thought."

"I will always stand next to you."

"I know that."

"So we're having children."

"Up to four."

Santana flopped onto the couch nearly on top of Quinn and the blonde woman wrapped her arms around her.

"That whole Rach thing was a huge surprise and don't repeat this but my first thought was I'm scared Rachel's eggs will beat my eggs' asses. IVF almost always makes multiple births so I just gotta say if we get four Rachels Ima cut a bitch."

"Right? I think we can both understand that what Brittany just said is she wants to have your children but she wants Rachel's baby too. Are you okay with that?"

Santana shrugged, "Whatever. The bromance. You okay?"

Quinn thought about it and then laughed. "If you told me when I was sixteen that I'd be okay with Noah fucking Puckerman's sperm anywhere near my Rachel, I'd have laughed at you before I murdered you. But I concur. Whatever."

"You're growing up."

Quinn snorted. "Keep telling yourself that."

* * *

It had taken a very surprisingly short time for Brittany to become pregnant.

Brittany had thought pregnancy would be fun. But it turned out to be strange. She was used to complete mastery over her body. Her body was out of control.

She flummoxed her family one night when she asked them. "Do you guys know what pica is? It's like when you get this feeling that you need to sort of eat dirt or stuff like that. I just wanted to say I sort of feel like that but I know that would be super crazy and bad but I'm hungry for something and I can't think of anything except like maybe dirt."

Rachel and Santana suddenly looked like they might explode with anxiety. Quinn waved a hand at them.

"Britts?"

"Q?"

"Thanks for telling us. You need to go to Dr. Hughes and explain how you're feeling. Maybe you're missing some minerals or iron. We can fix that."

"Really?"

"Yep—it's okay, baby B. No biggie. But until then you can only eat what you've eaten before with San or Rach or me okay? Those are the rules."

"Sure. Thanks, Q"

"Welcome."

* * *

**One Month Later**

Brittany watched Rachel as she passed a spinach salad to her. For iron. And Vitamin A. Rach acted like being pregnant meant she had some radioactive thing in her stomach that would explode if she didn't do stuff. It was sort of exhausting being with her. She was super grateful Q and San tried to help pull Rach off the job when they were together.

They were having tofu burgers, which she knew Q and San sort of hated but ate them for Rach. She'd decided she should like them because it was like eating something that was trying to be something it wasn't and it would be super mean if they were trying and being epic fails and you laughed or something.

"Rachel, I think I need—"

"What? Oh my God! Brittany! Are the babies okay?"

Brittany sighed. "Yes. I just, like, wanted the mustard."

* * *

There were babies, not baby. Three babies.

They'd all found out at the first ultrasound. Puck had had to sit down. Quickly.

* * *

Santana was always super sweet but Quinn was the one who asked if she couldn't eat stuff or if some smells were making her queasy. Quinn just patted her stomach and smiled like she understood. Because, actually, Brittany supposed, she did.

* * *

Puck had moved to New York to be with them and he'd brought his fiancée Samantha. She was sort of not who Brittany had ever thought Puck would be with. She was super nice but she sort of acted and looked like a really pretty, skinny boy.

* * *

_Noah loved Samantha. He loved her. He looked at her and wanted to…like sing songs on doorsteps and rain flower petals on her or whatever sorta gay straight guys did when they felt romantic and shit. _

_But when the call came—and Santana had told him it would—he knew he couldn't keep going with Sam unless he kept it real._

_Samantha knew about Beth but didn't know he was the IVF fairy. He swallowed his spit before he told her. He was scared shitless because he knew this could end them and he didn't want that._

_Sam was taller than he was. She had short, spiky blonde hair, green eyes, no boobs, no ass and he was in love with her. _

_After he told her, he was even more terrified because she just sort of nodded and continued to pick through the Chinese take-out they'd just gotten. She finally responded. "So what you're saying is these movie star rock star Broadway star people you grew up with have demanded your sperm and you're moving to New York to be with whatever spawn happens and you want me to go with you. That it?"_

_He took a sip of beer. Then another. Well fuck. When you put it like that._

"_I'm saying I love you and want you with me, Sam. But the people I'm talking about have names, okay? This is like my first REALLY responsible act as anyone's boyfriend maybe ever. I'm being honest. I'm telling you I'm doing it. I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. I love them and you'd have to have grown up with us to understand why it's totally right for me to help them this way. I'm doing it and I'm asking you whether you'll put up with it and stay with me. And you know what? It's fucked up. I know that, Sam. Fuck. I know that."_

_A long minute passed._

"_You love Quinn. I know her name."_

_He ran his hands through his hair._

_Samantha bit a piece of water chestnut in half and offered him the other half. He took it._

"_Do you want children with me, Puck?"_

"_What?"_

"_Let's say you do this IVF thing. You already have one kid and that could mean lots of kids. Do you want children with me?"_

_He sort of slumped into his chair, "Yes. Of course."_

_Samantha stood up and grabbed his empty plate. "You don't actually understand you're asking me to move with you and play second fiddle to four women and who knows how many children, do you?"_

_He thought about that for a second. "Oh."_

"_Thought so."_

"_It wouldn't be like that. Maybe I'm not saying it right. But they're my family, Sam. They're my family. You know what? I know I'm a dumbass but I DO think about stuff. And for a long time before I met you when I hated shit and didn't understand my life and thought who even cares about me—who do I belong to? In this world? _Seriously_?"_

_Samantha nodded._

_"I belong to Beth. And because of Beth, I have Quinn—forever. I get you're thinking maybe it's because of how Quinn's pretty. But no. I don't even know how to say it. I'm Beth's father so Quinn would fucking run through fire for me, Sam. She'd jump out of a fucking airplane without a parachute for me. Quinn would do it and fucking laugh doing it. She acts like she wouldn't but she would and she'd act like she half hates me and she'd call me an asshole the whole time but that's her. And I'm sorry but my Jew would fight anyone for me. And Santana and Britts would too—and not just for Beth—even though they know I'm a clueless fucking asshole."_

_He took a sip of beer. "They know that. You know I've slept with three of the_m _and made out with all of them and I was a total asshole high school jock with all of them. But for some reason they've all always liked me."_

_He slammed the rest of his beer. "Maybe you don't know what that means to me. They love me but what I've never…had or felt except with them—and now with you, is that people I…I guess people I respect can really see me as the shitbird I am and still _like _me." _

_He searched for words, "I mean, you can love tons of people even though they're whatever but really liking them is different. Like means more than love to me. I know you love me but you_ like_ me, Sam. I know that and I can't believe I'm so lucky. But they liked me first. And Quinn's my family."_

_Samantha nodded and tapped him on the face with a gentle hand. "Give me the bottom line, baby." With that, he realized he'd probably said too much but he saw gentleness in her eyes and maybe she really did understood what he didn't have words for._

"_Santana and Britts want me to get going for a baby and Quinn says do it. If Quinn wants anything I could possibly ever, ever give her, I'm sorry but I'm doing it. I want you and love you more than I've ever loved anyone except Beth but I'm a man and I want to be a good one. I have to be there if Quinn needs me, Sam. I hurt her like you can't know and I owe her forever." _

_Samantha washed their plates and cleaned the kitchen. Thirty minutes passed. _

_"Puck?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Will you marry me?"_

_He leapt up. "Are you kidding?"_

_"No."_

_"Yes! Of course I will! Yes! No way! I'm engaged? Fuck this—Fuck Finn! He thought he'd be first with Jessica!"_

_He began to ferociously punch a text out on his phone. "This is so badass!"_

_Sam rolled her eyes. Not even a kiss. Her future husband. She did like him.  
_

* * *

Five months in, Rachel was sort of actually really crazy about this pregnancy and now Brittany understood why Santana had always said that about her. She loved her forever but wow.

* * *

"Q?"

"S?"

"Do you think it's bad to have sex when someone's pregnant?"

Quinn stifled a laugh. "You're asking me? I feel ya. Those are my children in there!"

Santana cackled, "Right? It's like I know Britts wants to but it makes me shy because now she's getting so big it's obvious they're really there. Like—kids in the room!"

Quinn considered it as she flipped channels. "They are. But it's not like they're watching or even caring. Britts will get an endorphin hit from an orgasm and our kids will feel a little happier for reasons they'll never know. If nothing else, and it's something they maybe might feel, they'll know their mothers love each other."

Santana thought about that. "Thanks."

Quinn smiled at the television, "If Rach were pregnant, I'd fuck her twelve times a day. And I don't mean make love—I mean fuck."

Santana lifted a hand, "First? I think this pregnancy proves Rachel couldn't handle the whole pregnant thing. Second? Overshare."

"San?"

"Yeah?"

"I was pregnant."

"Yeah…and?"

Quinn didn't answer but the penny dropped.

"Oh! You mean like Britts might be feeling…like she needs a little somethin' somethin' more?"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know. I ate Sno Balls and power-slammed bacon but that's not what I really wanted. Looking back on it, I know that."

"Right. I'm outta here. Gotta see my baby."

* * *

"Rachel, what's this room?" Quinn pointed at the door.

"Your fortress of solitude."

"Do you get to go in there?"

"Not if the door's closed.

"Right. I'm going to let Britts nap in here today, okay sweetie?"

"Why?"

"Because she needs rest."

Rachel considered that statement. "You mean away from me?"

Quinn didn't lie. "Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. None of us are mad."

"I know I'm crazy right now but I'm just so nervous. She looks tired."

Quinn hugged her, "I know and that's why she gets to sleep in the FOS. Sometimes you don't understand talking nonstop to a person who just needs a nap doesn't help."

Rachel stamped her foot. "I suck."

"You _don't._We understand you're nervous but Brittany's tired. That's all. You follow her around like she's about to explode when she's only pregnant, Rachel. It's a natural condition. I'm the only person in this house who's had a baby, okay? I'd know."

Rachel hugged her tightly, remembering that sad and lonely girl. "I wish I'd known you back then."

"You did, angel."

"Not really."

"Maybe not. But still. I played your MySpace songs to Beth when I was pregnant."

Rachel hadn't known that and she decided to…_cherish_ that admission and didn't reply to it. She asked, "Are you guys mad at me?"

"No. We're all completely in love with you. And Brittany is okay. She just needs a nap."

They pulled away from each other and Rachel looked at the bedazzled FOS banner she'd made for Quinn's door. And whispered, "Quinn?"

Quinn whispered back, "Yeah?"

"I can't even think of a song to sing."

Quinn looked at her tiny, slightly crazed wife.

Pregnancy was weird and new to every first-timer. But Rachel was so Rachel and felt lost when life wasn't the Power Point she needed it to be.

Quinn kissed her and whispered, "I know a song we could sing."

"Sex? That's all you people think about these days!"

"We're pregnant. Hormones?"

Rachel stamped her foot again. "_You_ guys are pregnant! I'm hysterical. I'm using that word advisedly! Do not think I don't know the root meaning of hysteria is the Greek word for uterus!"

She marched away.

Quinn opened the door of her FOS and whispered to a nearly slumbering Brittany, "Can I get you anything, Baby B?"

Britanny shook her head. "Thanks for the crash pad but don't be mean, Q. She can't help it."

"I know."

* * *

Puck ran the full three miles. Fucking subway wasn't as fast as he was. New York was snowed in as fuck. And Lima was and the babies were early and fuck, fuck, fuck. His phone was blowing up and not one of the parentals could fly in and Sam was in Ohio with her mom and fuck fuck, fuck.

* * *

"Brittany. Let me explain what's going to happen and it's going to happen quickly."

She loved her doctor. Peter Hughes understood her and understood how to talk to her. But he spoke so quickly she knew something was wrong. "Your babies are earlier than even I thought they'd be but that's completely normal with multiples. You've kept them as long as you could and it's enough that their lungs should be completely fine. Your sons are small but your daughter is very, very tiny. We can see on the fetal monitors these contractions are making her unhappy. So I'm very sorry but it's a C-section. It's an emergency for her, Brittany, so our anesthesiologist Carol Adams is going to give you an epidural and it's going to happen now."

Puck's jaw felt frozen. Santana nodded. Quinn wanted to cry and Rachel blinked back tears.

"Will it hurt?"

"The epidural? The epidural is the medicine that makes it not hurt."

"I know that. I mean the babies—you have to cut me to get them, right? Will it hurt them?"

He took a breath and remembered his patient. "Not a bit. Just an incision in your lower belly and we'll lift them right out. They'll be a little shocked that they're out in the air but that's all."

Dr. Hughes didn't relish having so many participants in surgery. But he'd met them all as her partners and had accepted them all. "You'll all have to scrub up quick if you want to go with us but understand you'll only look at your babies for seconds before we make sure they're okay." He looked at Rachel and said, "_You_ may observe. Do not move during this."

Rachel was offended that he thought that she, of all of them, would. And was embarrassed that it was true.

* * *

It was weird. It was like TV. Brittany knew it must be the drugs they gave her that made her know she was scared for her babies but like it was super far away.

She could see Dr. Hughes was smiling at her under his mask. "You'll only feel a little weird pressure and tugging—just a little okay, honey? That'll be me getting the babies out."

She nodded.

Santana trusted Dr. Hughes. But Brittany's huge belly looked so white and distorted under that blinding surgical light and he was actually going to cut her because he had to and she felt like she was going to faint because she'd never had to watch Brittany hurt without intervening in her life.

Quinn gripped her hand and hissed, "It's okay."

Puck pulled Rachel to him.

Dr. Hughes said to his team. "Okay people. You know the drill."

And then it happened really more quickly than they could believe. Santana and Rachel knew, doctor's kids that they were, that the speed and intensity and precision meant something. Quinn and Puck were no fools. Dr. Hughes had said it—this was an emergency.

Santana tilted her head as he cut into Brittany. Blood. Brittany's blood. Oh fucking God.

Puck had a death grip on Rachel but he instantly grabbed Santana and held her up. "I gotcha."

Dr. Hughes reached into what was insane to all of them—it was the inside of Brittany in front of them and lifted out a tiny wriggling thing. "Baby A. Let's do it people."

He clamped the cord and Quinn had no idea why she did it but couldn't just stand there. She stepped forward and just bumped the nurse beside Dr. Hughes to the side. She'd thought it was moronic that they all had gloves and masks on but maybe not. "Give me whatever. I'll cut the cord. Now."

Peter Hughes had no idea why he allowed it. "Quickly." The nurse slapped surgical scissors into Quinn's hand and she cut the umbilical cord like she'd been doing that sort of thing forever. The first baby was free. She looked down into the internal workings of her friend of twenty years. She wanted to die.

He reached down again. She could see two squirming things and she understood he as he fished around that he wanted to get to one but couldn't without getting the other first. He lifted and said "Baby B" because that was protocol for his team with multiples. There was no time to cut anything. The doctor had watched the third neonatal monitor flatline fifteen seconds ago. He handed the child to Quinn in the limited space they had, tethered as he was to his mother.

He reached down again.

"Baby C." She was the tiniest baby Quinn had ever seen in real life and she wasn't like the other babies. She was purple-blue. The doctor barked, "Suction! Oxygen." A nurse handed him a tube and a tiny little mask. He suctioned out her nose and mouth, held the mask on her face and made tiny gentle compressions on her chest.

She didn't move. And didn't move. But then it seemed she almost became pissed off that he was bothering her because she suddenly screamed and with that, with that little burst of oxygen she pulled into her body, her tiny body blushed and became pink.

Dr. Hughes felt awash with joy. He picked her up and laughed as she wriggled angrily and screamed at him. "That's it. There you go. That's what you need." He said to a nurse, "Clamp and cut these cords, Angela. Dr. Quinn has her hands full." Angela did and took the baby Quinn was holding.

He handed the baby girl to another nurse and said to the parents, "I'm sorry that was scary but I firmly suspect you have three very healthy babies."

Brittany said, "Remember me? The person on the table?"

Everyone laughed in that way you laugh after you've just had a car crash and you're still full of terror and adrenaline.

"Can I see them?"

"Not right now, Brittany. They're very small and we need to make sure they're okay. But I really think they are, okay? You'll see them in maybe thirty minutes."

Brittany nodded. "Okay."

Quinn looked back at Puck and Santana and Rachel. She'd never seen any of them look so frightened and that was saying something because she'd frightened them all and badly in her day. "San—get over here and talk to your woman."

Dr. Hughes said, "No. I'm closing now. Normally, yes. But no. All of you need to leave. I need to close."

"Are you mad, Dr. Hughes?"

"No, Brittany. I'm happy. Birth and seeing your little people for the first time are always show-stoppers. But my most important patient is you and I'm actually in the middle of major abdominal surgery. That's serious to me. I have work to do."

"Okay. Sorry guys but I'm suddenly, like, really tired."

And immediately she was unconscious.

Dr. Hughes smiled under his mask, and said, "She's fine, everyone. She's just tired. Everything's absolutely fine. You need to leave now. You'll see your children soon."

He turned to repairing the injury he'd caused her body. He'd watched established surgeons open patients so many times and leave the closing for a resident. He'd made a promise to himself when he'd started surgery that if he had the audacity to open a human body, he would have the respect he should and close it. He knew his team was taking care of the infants and would alert him if they needed him. They knew he was a slow closer. He closed her uterus and the layers of tissue above. For her skin, he didn't do the glue or staples that other doctors did that gave results he never felt he could depend upon.

He painstakingly made tight and tiny little stitches. He'd done extra rotations in plastic surgery because he'd imagined an OB/GYN should always think of a woman's need not to have what happened to her surgically look worse than it had to. When he finished, he looked at the result. And smiled. She'd have an extraordinarily small scar. Just enough to remember. He tied it off and nodded. Good.

* * *

When Brittany came to, she felt like her head was swimming a little. She saw San and Q and Puck were holding pastel footballs and Rachel looked terrified.

"What's going on?"

Santana took one look at her wife and said, "Rach—get her some water. Dr. Hughes said she could have some."

Rachel jumped and placed some ice in a cup and poured water in with it. She stuck a straw in the cup and offered it to Brittany and smiled as she drank. "You did great, Brittany."

"Thanks, Rach."

"They won't let me hold the babies, Brittany."

"Angel, be fair. You've been calling all our parents and you've dropped your phone eleven times."

Rachel stamped her foot. "You counted!"

Brittany sighed. "Rach?"

"Yes."

"You can stop worrying now. They're here."

"Hey, Rach, c'mon." Puck said, "We gotta hear the names."

"Oh! That's right."

* * *

_Brittany had been very adamant about the issue. One night. From out of nowhere._

_Puck was over for dinner when Brittany announced, "I'm totally naming the babies and you guys don't get to say anything."_

_They stared at her. _

_She stuffed what felt like her nine zillionth spinach leaf into her mouth. For iron. And Vitamin A._

_She chewed and when they continued to keep a studied silence she said, "I can totally see what you're thinking. I'm not naming them unicorn or rainbow or cloud or something crazy like that."_

_She got up from the table and said, "You guys suck. I'm going to the FOS. I'll come out when I'm ready." _

* * *

Brittany was pleased. San was holding a son and Puck was too. The nurses had swaddled them in blue blankets and they looked super snuggly. Quinn was holding their little girl who was swaddled as well but in pink. It was totally weird to see how her people were.

Rachel was scared and couldn't hold the babies. San and Puck were being totally ultra careful with the babies in their arms—like they'd break them if they didn't. But Quinn was smiling and held their daughter like it was the easiest thing in the world—like a mom would. Like a real mom. She smiled. Awesome.

"Can I see the boys together?"

Santana grinned, "Absolutely. This little badass is Baby A. He's our heavyweight at five pounds and eight ounces."

Puck beamed, "And this little bruiser Baby B weighed in at five pounds and three ounces but don't think he's putting up with shit about that."

Brittany looked at her sons. They looked really super tiny and sort of red and squinchy but she knew that was okay. She could tell they had San and Noah's skin and they both had brown eyes and a tiny shock of brown hair. They looked at her—or sort of around her—because she knew newborns couldn't really focus much because Rach had read a chapter of "What to Expect With Your Newborn" and "Your Baby!" out loud to her and San and Quinn and made them listen every night forever.

They were pretty.

She could only see their faces. "I know they're snuggly but did you guys look at all of them?"

Puck nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. They have ten fingers and ten toes and knees and elbows and stuff and…their junk's in order."

"Noah!"

"Sorry, Rach. But it is. They're perfect, Britts."

"Okay. That's good."

She looked at the baby in Santana's arms and then the baby in Puck's. She nodded. She touched her son in Santana's arms. "This baby's name is Noah."

Noah gripped the baby in his arms a little tighter. "No way. Seriously?"

"Is that okay?" He looked so overwhelmed Brittany asked, "Did you want to save that name for a baby you and Sam make? I mean he sort of came out first and so he's like your first son but it's not a biggie."

He shook his head because he was tearing up, "Fuck no, it's a biggie. I just—that's…just…yes. Noah. Noah Pierce Lopez. That's a badass name."

Santana hugged her newly named boy tightly. "Damn straight."

Brittany looked at the tiny boy in Puck's arms. "I knew when Dr. Hughes told us we had two boys what their names were. I just had to see them to see which was which." She reached forward and touched the little boy's cheek, "Your name is Quinn."

All of them were completely stunned. "Quinn's sort of a boy's name. I always knew since we were six but I kept it a secret. I always knew if I ever had a little boy baby, I'd call him Quinn."

Tears filled Santana's eyes. She nodded. Perfect.

Quinn smiled, holding the tiny pink bundle swaddled in her arms. "Poor little bastard."

Puck said, "Right?"

Quinn was shocked but happy and Brittany could see that as she moved the few steps it took to kiss the baby in Santana's arms. "Hello, Noah." Then the baby in Puck's, "Hi Quinn."

Brittany had known Quinn for a super long time but she didn't think she'd ever seen her look prettier than when she said, "And now may I present, at four pounds and one ounce, your daughter."

Brittany totally appreciated that Quinn wasn't like San and Puck who kept the babies for themselves and maybe that was because they were worried she was just out of surgery but still. Quinn put the little girl in her arms.

She looked at her incredibly tiny daughter and she was a little red and squinchy like her sons. But she was looking at her and Brittany could totally tell the baby was seeing her even if she wasn't supposed to be able to. With a totally fierce look on her face. The baby had enormous brown eyes and long eyelashes and the tiniest little big nose she'd ever seen.

She blinked and stared. At her eyes, her nose—her tiny little mouth. It was Rachel.

"Oh my _God_." Was all Brittany could think of to say.

"I'm so sorry."

Britany shook her head at Rachel's response. "What?"

Rachel backed away a few steps. "My genes are obviously incredibly expressive and she looks like she'll look exactly like me and I can't believe that I did that to our child and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Sweetie, _what_?" Quinn held up her hand and said, very, very softly, "Who's in charge?"

Rachel said, "You."

"Right. You've correctly identified the fact that this baby's undeniably your biological daughter. But listen to our responses to that, okay?"

Rachel blinked, brushed away tears and nodded.

Puck looked at his daughter and then at Rachel, "That is 100% fine-ass Jew and that's what I'm talking 'bout."

Santana looked at the little girl and then at Rachel, "She is the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen in my life and we live with Q so that's saying something."

Brittany pulled her daughter closer, "She's perfect. Just like you are, Rach."

"And you _know _what I think about you, Rachel Barbra," Quinn said as she took the girl from Brittany's arms. "Gimme. Our little guys like this swaddling business—my girl's hating it."

She carefully unwrapped the incredibly tiny infant wearing an even tinier diaper and the little girl immediately looked happier. She extended her little arms and kicked one tiny defiant foot.

They laughed and Quinn took her up and looked at Rachel, "Come here, honey. You can hold your little girl."

Rachel's hands were shaking and she said, "Can I just hold you holding her?"

"Sure."

Rachel happily hugged them.

"What's her name, Britts?"

"Oh right, San. Sorry. Her name's Beryl."

They all looked at her with that expression Brittany knew meant what everyone, even them, thought about a lot of what she said which was pretty much, 'O_kay_. _That_ was random.' She was totally used to it.

So she explained, "It's just a cool name, guys. Me and San watched a show about Beryl Markham when we were really little and she was a totally cool pilot when girls didn't get to fly planes very much and she trained racehorses, too. I just always thought it was the best name for a girl."

"Okay. Beryl it is," Quinn said.

Britts shrugged, "But we'll obvs call her Berry."

Quinn looked, to Brittany, like she'd been punched for a second. But then she nodded. And smiled. "Berry it is. Thank you, B."

"_De nada_."

* * *

Santana was so happy, so incredibly relieved and over the moon for her children. They had _children_—and wasn't that the craziest shit ever? She looked at Britts who was sleepily happy and so her—just hanging out in bed knowing stuff none of them knew. Rachel finally looked just a little less crazy.

Once she'd been cleared for child-handling, Rachel had immediately grabbed baby Noah although it was completely obvious she wanted her daughter. Santana watched Rachel and knew this was going to be the most enormous effort of her life—not to fixate on that child. And it touched her that she knew it enough to force herself to take a baby other than her own.

Five minutes passed.

"Noah?"

"Rach?"

"I think your mini-me needs changing."

"And you're saying that because?"

"He's your son."

"He's your son, too, Jew."

"Oh for God's sake." Quinn grabbed little Noah, unwrapped him and changed his diaper as she announced, "I'll do this now but this is _not_ how this is going, people."

Santana felt nearly filleted—boneless—with happiness watching Quinn. Happily trading babies and cooing over them and being so completely the mother none of them were. She knew they'd learn to do it and love it and get more used to it. Quinn was just a completely natural mother.

Quinn was such a stranger to herself—talking all shit with her and then—just look at her.

She wondered at the weirdness of what life had afforded her best friend. Her parents had slammed the idea she had to be the perfect wife and mother down her throat.

She held her son Quinn as she watched _her_ Quinn move from baby to baby, taking time to pet over Britts and tenderly kiss Rachel. Quinn _was_ the perfect mother and wife. In these unguarded moments, she actually _was_ that person. Santana realized watching her that Quinn felt the _idea _of being a wife and a mother in a very old school and very traditional way.

And maybe Quinn would be embarrassed to know that. That everything her parents had told her she should want—a marriage and home and children—were exactly what it turned out she did want. That she'd actually turned out to be very, very traditional. Except for the gay Spanglish Jewish Black part.

Santana knew she couldn't say that to Quinn but she knew all of them had innumerable things they couldn't say to each other. And walked around them so they could all be something like happy. Or Quinn's word. Content.

Santana kissed her tiny son and said, "Puck—take this guy—don't bogart my little girl."

"What?"

"Your hogging my daughter."

"So what? She's fucking _adorable._ She's the size of a can of Coke and she's looking at me like she wants to kick the world's ass."

Rachel stood, took Berry from Puck, and announced, "Although I love our children's names, don't think it won't be difficult. We now have two Noahs, two Quinns and two Berrys. And now Noah is marrying a Sam so we'll have to think girl Sam not our old friend Sam. It's not unlike a Bronte novel."

Rachel sat in her chair and looked at her daughter. Her daughter looked at her. Rachel gently touched her tiny big nose with her pinky finger and smiled when the baby seemed to glare at her. "I think she's hungry."

Brittany said in a very sleepy voice, "I'll feed her but seriously, you guys? This is it. I know San's happy and Quinn said she could have four children and now she has them. But me and Rach can't go through this again. It's like Coach would say. You think you had it hard, Q? You were only homeless. You don't know _anything." _

Rachel felt all eyes fall upon her but she kept them on her daughter, "Don't listen to them, Berry. I don't."

* * *

**A/N**

**How Quinn helped during the birth. That could seem a little 'magical fanfic!' to you but I've spent more time than you could believe in hospitals taking care of very ill people. You'd be astonished what doctors and nurses will let a steady and willing pair of hands do. If you obviously can do something that needs to be done, they usually don't balk. And it seemed like a very Quinn thing to do. To me, anyway.**

**And anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. **

**I think maybe one more—maybe two chapters—and that'll be it. Thanks so much for reading.**


	69. Chapter 69

**A/N Disclaimers to chapter one apply.**

**READ THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE! **

This is a quick throw-away chapter you don't have to read for the rest if you don't wanna. IF YOU READ IT? The first part is a flashback to when Puck's fiancée Samantha meets our four main characters. The second part is set one day after the birth of the children. I know I'm jumping back and forth so...

* * *

**10 Months Previously**

LaGuardia. Samantha hadn't known what to wear to meet a rock star, movie star, Broadway star and dance star. So she'd done what she always did when she was feeling a little unsure. She butched it up. A look Puck definitely liked. She was wearing a flannel shirt, leather jacket, skinny jeans and camo combat boots.

She had no idea what to think about this. She was doing it but she'd made Puck promise one thing—to let her find her way with these people and not to interfere.

She'd never known anyone famous—and these people were very, very famous. Santana and Quinn particularly. Rachel was perhaps slightly behind them but and Brittany was maybe a distant fourth but she couldn't imagine even she woman didn't get recognized on the street all the time.

They weren't staying this time—it was just a meet and greet. She and Puck rolled their carry-ons to the transportation area, where there were many drivers holding signs and they easily found the really tall guy holding one reading Puckerman.

"That's us."

The man nodded. "Follow me, please." He took Samantha's bag and they followed him out into the parking garage and to a Range Rover with tinted windows. The driver opened the trunk, stowed the luggage, and opened the back door for them and were surprised to find it was occupied.

"Bring it in, asshole."

"Santana?"

"Get in and close the door, jackass. Quick."

They clambered in.

Santana opened her arms, "Bring it in."

He hugged her and when they pulled away from each other, Santana extended her hand, "Hi, Samantha. I'm Santana."

Samantha shook it and the first thing that popped out of her mouth was obviously wrong, "You're so little."

Santana popped her head back. "And you're baby dyke Dream Girl Barbie. We gotta problem?"

Puck closed his eyes. And felt a crashing wave of relief when he heard Samantha laugh and say, "Wow. BFFs already, huh?"

He opened his eyes to see San wasn't red zone at all, although she was blushing. "Right? Yeah—sorry about that. I guess this asshole didn't tell you I'm a little weird about being small."

"He didn't—and I didn't even mean you're little. It's just I never met anyone famous and you sort of expect them to be…bigger."

Santana waved a hand—"Please—I feel ya." She leaned forward and patted the driver on the shoulder, "Get going, Mike."

As they pulled out of the parking lot, she continued, "Seriously. Sorry about the d-word. Although…" She looked Sam over appreciatively, "I gotta say…you sure you never played for my team?"

"Not once."

Santana smirked. "If you say so. Your loss—Puck's gain. Sorry I couldn't come in and meet you inside. It feels like such a bitch-ass thing not to meet your friends off an airplane but I wasn't happy thinking I'd be all 'Hi, nice to meet you, Samantha. As a welcome gift, someone in this airport will catch this on his phone and you'll be on TMZ tonight.'"

"That would be awesome."

"Or not, Puck. That's why I was talking to her."

"I'd hate that."

"Yeah. See?"

Sam smiled, "Can I get one thing out of the way right up front?"

Santana steeled herself, "Sure."

"I'm actually a huge fan of your music."

Santana smiled warmly at her. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

"In a way that I'm keeping myself from asking you if you'll sign my shirt right now."

Santana laughed, "I'll sign whatever you want but you're Puck's woman so I promise I can hit you up with cool shit a lot more than that."

Samantha just looked at her and she hadn't realized until she was with her first famous person that it would be so weird for her. Which made her wonder. "Is this weird for you, Santana?"

"What?"

"For me to be a fan. For you to have fans."

Santana smiled at her but turned to watch the city passing by through the window. "Between us? A little. Sure. I mean, you're Puck's fiancée and I've known him since he was three feet tall. I'm glad you like my music but the whole fame bullshit sort of puts a layer of whatever between us that seriously doesn't need to be there. Fans in general? It's nice that people like what you've done—of course it is. But sometimes when people come up and say they're fans you don't know if they're fans of the tunes or your ass. Which is fair enough, I guess—I got a great ass. I'm not so solipsistic, though, that I don't know it's a real first world girl problem to feel a little hampered by it. Brittany can walk around and get by if she keeps her head down. I can put a hoodie on and I'm just another little brown girl walking by."

She jerked her chin slightly at whatever she was watching. "But Q can't go anywhere really without causing a commotion. And Rachel's just so obviously her, we don't let her go out without one of us or protection."

This profoundly shocked Puck. "Like a bodyguard? Is somebody steppin' to my Jew?"

"No. Not threats, necessarily. But you know her. She likes attention so much she'd sign an autograph for a fucking werewolf if you let her. It's probably not fair to her but I can't risk her out by herself at this point."

Ah. Puck had told Samantha that Santana talked shit but was seriously smart. But the first thing she was in her life was protective with her family.

Moments passed.

"And you want to bring children into this?"

She worded it softly and she was glad to see Santana took it as a legitimate question.

"People living in grinding poverty on dirt floors and no running water want children, Samantha. People have to do what they have to do. You have to live. I'm not going to be a pussy and complain because I'm some famous rich person."

When they walked into the enormous loft, Sam surveyed it. She hadn't known what to expect and had imagined, with four wealthy women, maybe a light Scandinavian minimalism but, instead, it was all textured fabric, dark warmth and heavy wood and metal. It was decidedly masculine. And despite the immediacy of the expanse of it and the killer wrap-around Manhattan skyline view, it felt ferociously grounded.

Santana saw Sam and Puck's reaction and said, "Quinn did all of it. Thank fucking God."

She shouted, "Anybody home?"

Sam and Santana and Puck watched as a fairly water-drenched Brittany ran toward them and smiled winningly at Samantha before just moving toward "Puck!"

"I want to hug you so much right now and I'm super happy to meet you, Sam, but something totally bad is happening in Q and Rach's toilet and I have toilet water on me and it's not like it's dirty toilet water but that would still be super weird to say hi to, right?"

Samantha looked into those sweet blue eyes and couldn't believe the surge of warmth she felt. Puck had tried to describe her and explain her but it couldn't match the force of her. She nodded. "Hi, Brittany. And yes."

"I'm so glad you're here, guys. And maybe you can help because this is crazy."

Santana shook her head. "Britts—is there water on the floor you can't stop making go on it?"

"Oh. No, San. It's not like plumber 911 but me and Rach were trying to fix it and got all dirty."

Samantha watched as a tiny woman in a water-splashed shirt rush toward them. She talked like a machine gun. "Noah! I'm sorry to reunite with you under these circumstances and I'm so sorry I can't greet you, Samantha, as I should as Noah's intended which thrills me more than you can know. A calamity has occurred!"

Samantha nodded. "What happened?"

Quinn joined them. "It was just a slight accident, folks. Hello, Samantha. I'm dry." She shook her hand. "I'm Quinn. Welcome to the glamorous life of movie stars. Puckerman—I'll hug you when the toilet war's over."

"What's wrong," Sam repeated, "I'm a plumber's kid."

Rachel leapt startlingly into Sam's personal space and looked up at her. "I've been very anxious to meet you, Samantha, and as I was brushing my hair thinking about this fact, nature called and when I flushed I realized, from the tonal pitch of the flush that something was wrong. I looked down and my hairbrush was stuck in…its…what do you call it?"

She made a wild motion with her hands. "Aperture? And naturally I didn't necessarily wish to call attention to the problem and thought perhaps I could use a plunger to suction it out but I seem to have only succeeded in making it a fixed part of the toilet. Brittany is the strongest person in the house and she can't remove it."

She sighed violently and looked up at Samantha hopefully.

"Okay. Let's have a look."

Rachel brightened immediately and said, "Follow me!"

She marched them through the house and through a bedroom that was enormous into a bathroom that was enormous.

It had mirrors—but mirrors obviously, Samantha noticed immediately because she was the tallest person in the house, they were placed for Rachel's sight line. She'd been stooping to see herself in girl mirrors all her life.

She looked around. There was nothing visually in here for _Quinn_. At her eye level. Not even the pictures. And hell, you could make a mirror bigger and accommodate people of different heights but that wasn't true in this room.

There was a beautiful bath. And a marble half wall that undoubtedly housed a shower that no one could see into if anyone was in it.

Oh snap. Quinn didn't _want_ to see herself or anyone else to.

Wow.

She handed her jacket to Puck as she looked into the toilet. "Don't even, my man. This is a job for a woman."

She rolled up her sleeves, put one arm in and assessed the situation. "Okay. Let's do something a little easier than calling some fucker who'll charge you a thousand bucks because you're rich. Rachel, I know you guys have to have some sort of vegetable oil for cooking right?"

"Every single kind."

"Okay—go get me a bottle of whatever you don't want anymore."

Rachel rushed away.

When she left the room, Sam laughed as soundlessly as she could. "How the fuck? Lemme guess, Quinn. You're the one everyone in this house is slightly jealous of because you got to marry that one."

Quinn looked into this new person's eyes, who was on her bathroom floor with her arm in her toilet and saw only warm sincerity. "You got it."

Rachel reappeared. "Sunflower!"

"Great. Pour about two cups in."

Rachel did.

"Okay—I'm going to hold and jimmy the brush while you flush."

Rachel flushed and while the water swirled around Sam gently shook the wedged brush and then growled at it. "Don't be shy, bitch. Your mother wasn't." And five seconds later she pulled the brush out.

"There you go."

Rachel clapped her hands in relief.

Santana looked at Puck. "Dude. Recall. I want _her_ sperm for our babies."

Puck snorted. "Right?"

* * *

The evening after went very well and devolved, after a vegan/vegetarian Thai dinner, into Call of Duty.

Sam assessed the situation as she watched Santana play with Puck.

Santana was clearly the brother he never had. Brittany was another sister. Rachel he was slightly in love with. Obviously. It was also obviously nothing either of them knew enough to be shy about. It was a fact but no threat.

For that reason, she felt happy that the tiny woman had no problem just planting herself nearly on her man in her presence and saying, "Noah, you have to show me how to work the controls. Santana won't."

He winced. "You're gonna get me killed, Jew."

She looked at him. He looked down into her huge brown hopeful eyes.

"Okay. Fuck. Fine." He wrapped an arm around her and as he began to explain, Samantha smiled and looked to Quinn who was watching them.

Quinn was the one she didn't understand. Quinn saw her looking at her and smiled a very strangely enigmatic smile.

* * *

The next morning, Quinn announced at breakfast, "Samantha and I are going to lunch. Alone."

Samantha was shocked but didn't look at Quinn—but no one at the table looked at her or Quinn. They all looked at Santana.

Ah. The Quinn meter reader. Santana looked at Quinn and took a bite of bagel. "Everything okay?"

"What could be wrong?"

"Don't start, bitch. You're cutting her from the herd. Why?"

"She has things she wants to say to me she won't say in front of you. Any of you. Am I wrong, Samantha?"

Puck had told Sam that Quinn was scary. She was.

"No. You're not wrong."

"Right. So we're going to lunch today."

* * *

As they left the building, Quinn said, "The restaurant's two blocks from here. If pap starts, just keep walking. It's like a perp walk, Samantha. No comment—keep walking. I'll stop for humans but not paparazzi."

Sam put a hand on Quinn's arm. "I look like a lesbian—you okay with that?"

"I _am_ a lesbian. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Will it start something online?"

"Of course it will. Fuck them."

And sure enough, within half a block a dozen photographers were there, shouting "Quinn—who's your friend? Quinn—where's Rachel?"

"Jesus," Sam whispered harshly as they picked up their pace.

"Right?"

They followed the full two blocks. Picture, picture, picture. Stupid question, stupid question.

When they stepped into the restaurant, Sam exhaled in relief. That had been insane.

Quinn, who liked the restaurant and frequented it, merely said to the host, "Table for two."

After they'd ordered, Quinn said, "Just say it."

"First? I'm glad I came, okay? Because this whole baby daddy thing is a hard curveball."

"Of course."

"I get why he wants to. He called them family and they are—I can see that."

Quinn nodded, "But?"

"He's doing it for you."

"And that disturbs you why?"

"It's been eleven years. Can't you just let him off the hook?"

"Why would I?"

Sam felt a sudden urge to strangle this cool, icy stranger. But she lowered her voice.

"I get it. You were fifteen. But he didn't rape you."

"No. He didn't. Or he'd be dead."

Samantha looked into her eyes—eyes that gave her nothing at all. No feeling.

"Stop doing this ice queen thing with me, Quinn. It won't work. You asked me to lunch to talk and I said yes but I'm telling you I'm not putting up with this…façade of yours. I won't. Answer me like a human and I know you are one. Or I'll walk."

"What do you imagine I'm doing to Puckerman that you don't like?"

"I'm not imagining it. You keep him guilty and he doesn't need to be. It's years ago now and he still feels exactly as guilty as he ever did. You're doing just fine and you've moved on and he can't and I have to deal because he's mine. Simple enough for you?"

Quinn nodded. "It is simple. You don't know what you're talking about, Samantha."

The server appeared with their food and Quinn smiled beatifically at him. He almost dropped their plates.

As he left, Sam had to laugh, "Does the ability to do that ever get boring?"

Quinn smiled. "It can be taxing—but no." She looked at Sam's steak sandwich and sighed, "God, I miss meat."

Sam understood this conversation would go Quinn's way or no way. "Why not eat it? I know Rachel's vegan but did she put her foot down?"

Quinn speared her mixed green salad and said very quietly. "Not at all. It's what I do to show her respect and to apologize. Every single day of our lives. I owe her, Samantha. You presume a hell of a lot. You're sitting here saying that Puck doesn't owe me anything after all these years because it was consensual and blah, blah blah. What that meant to him, in the five minutes it took, was banging the head cheerleader. Score. What it meant for me was that I'd done something horrible and completely against my beliefs. It's horrible to me even now. I slept with someone I wasn't married to. You can't imagine what it still feels like to me to know I didn't bring myself to Rachel the way she brought herself to me. Was that Puck's fault? Absolutely not. He was just a horn-dog and I was candy he wanted. So. Little Miss 'didn't want to know I was a lesbian brutally abusing a girl I was in love with' drank some wine coolers and let Noah Puckerman fuck me. And uh oh. What did being pregnant at the age of fifteen mean?"

Samantha realized she'd started a fight with someone out of her weight class.

"It meant I was socially ostracized. It meant being thrown on the street by my parents. Every single thing in my life—everything I'd been taught to base my life around—emotionally, mentally and spiritually—was ripped away from me, Samantha. Did you hear the homeless part? Everything. I was just a kid."

Quinn's eyes were dry but Samantha felt tears stinging hers.

"You're marrying Puck so I'll tell you the only redeeming thing about the boy he was then is that he manned up. I'm pretty sure Puck told you I fucked my ex Finn over it. Finn tried and was sweet—but whatever. Puck manned up. He can feel guilt and the necessity to atone, Samantha. He has an actual conscience. Lots of guys wouldn't even care. He needed to because it's something he is. He's a man. Guilt's made him something more than what he would have been without it—just another self-absorbed asshole jock. I've known him since we were six and you haven't. If you love the man he is, believe me when I say letting him twist on a hook in the wind when he was a boy made him that way. Don't tell me _anything _about what Noah Puckerman doesn't owe me anymore."

She smiled.

"He owes me everything and always and he knows it. I used to fuck with him over it because I was a scared, bitter vicious bitch. I can still be that woman but that's not our relationship now, Samantha. I owe Rachel every day of my life and will forever and happily. Maybe you haven't noticed or maybe you have and don't like it but Puck owes me and puts up with that happily. You don't seem to understand it's not guilt anymore, Samantha. It's called atonement. People like me and Puck?"

She took a swig of her cranberry and soda.

"We _need_ to make atonement. I ruined Rachel's childhood. Puck helped ruin mine. And I know it's all childhood bullshit to you but they're real to both of us. I'll live with both those facts forever and I will never get over them. So no. He doesn't get to slide—ever—with me. And that's exactly as it should be. Atonement is the only thing that makes my life worth living, Samantha. Don't think it might not be for Puck."

Samantha sat with the crushing truth of that for a full two minutes and finally said, "How's your salad?"

Quinn laughed.

* * *

The rest of the lunch was surprisingly airy and fun for Samantha. When they readied themselves to leave, she said, "Q?"

"Ha. I'm an initial already. Fine. What?"

"Paparazzi are going to be out there again, aren't they."

"Absolutely."

"And it's going to be out there on the net?"

"Yep."

"Santana kept them off us at the airport. But now that they're there, can I at least look like I got game?"

Quinn looked at Sam. She was a kind of Santana. Protective of Puck and ultimately sort of a guy. Which she respected. "We walk with your arm over my shoulder and my arm around your waist. We smile at each other and this'll explode. It will explode."

"Is it wrong to think that's sort of cool?"

"Not one bit."

They walked out arm in arm and Quinn felt happy. Puck would be happy. With the explosion. And in life. Which made her smile easily for the cameras outside.

And sure enough, the net exploded.

**Trouble in Paradise?**

**Quinn Fabray caught canoodling with mystery woman!**

* * *

**Ten Months Later. One Day After Delivery **

Rachel was in the hospital hallway and had never been so surprised in her life when she saw her fathers rushing toward her.

"Daddy? Dad? What are you doing here? HOW did you get here? The airports are closed."

Eric, who was uncharacteristically unshaven, said, "When we got the news, your dad just went full out—and he was trying to put the snow chains on the tires. Saying I was obviously not the man he thought he'd married if I'd let a little blizzard stop him from seeing three grandchildren and he was going to drive if I didn't so here we are."

They both hugged her.

"Can we see them?"

"Of course. Brittany's feeding the boys. Quinn took Berry for a walk because she's fractious after she eats and Santana took Puck out for what I'm sure are unethical foodstuffs."

They walked into the room and Brittany beamed at them. "Jacob! Eric! Hi, guys!"

She wasn't the least bit embarrassed that she was, basically, topless and feeding two children. But she did say, "Sorry about the breasts but that's how they eat." She nodded to her left breast, "That's Noah." Then to her right, "That's Quinn."

They were both wearing Aqua Man onesies.

Eric and Jacob both kissed her on the forehead and then bent closer to babies. Tears filled both their eyes. Eric put a hand on Noah. They were so tiny. Rachel, who'd turned out to be so petite, had been a whopper of an infant girl. Nine pounds eight ounces from the get go.

"They're so beautiful," Eric said.

Jacob nodded, smiled and wiped his eyes. "They're perfect."

"I totally know you want to pick them up and pet them and you can later but I think they need sleepy mom time right now. They have five parents who can't stop doing that and they're worn out."

Jacob ran a hand over each boy with awe. "I can't believe it. Grandchildren. And me so young."

Brittany giggled.

Rachel sighed happily. "They're very much alike but they're different. Noah has a tiny birthmark on his left cheek. Quinn has lighter hair. But Brittany is correct. We continue to scrutinize them thoroughly and they're beginning to resent it."

At that moment Quinn walked in with their daughter and said, "No way! Daddy? Dad! _How? _No way!"

Jacob said, "We're extremely butch, Quinn. When circumstances demand it."

She laughed, "Clearly! I'm so happy!"

Eric and Jacob, seeing a child in her arms, realized she was happy in a way they'd never seen her. Which made them both sad and delighted for her. They kissed her on the forehead as she kept her daughter's head shielded.

"You met our little guys?"

Rachel jumped in. "Yes. I think perhaps Dad might like to take a seat to meet our daughter."

Quinn looked at her, "Oh angel. You don't know us. Daddy?"

Eric said, "Yes?"

"Take a seat and I'll give you this little girl. Dad can watch, okay?"

Jacob's hand flew to his mouth, "Is something wrong?"

"Not one thing."

Quinn handed Berry, in her little Wonder Woman onesie, to Eric and the second he saw her…he began to cry hot streaming tears. Jake's precious nose. And his baby girl. Again.

Jacob looked at the baby in disbelief.

Eric gently picked her up and put her tiny person on his chest and continued to cry.

Jacob ran his hand over his husband's head. And people thought he was the pushover. He looked at Quinn and smiled.


	70. Chapter 70

**A/N: Disclaimers to chapter one apply. There will be two chapters after this one. And that's IT.**

**This will include the children, which I know some people like but bores the hell out of a lot of people. This chapter is both about and very much not about the children. As perhaps you'll see.**

**I hope you enjoy and if you do or don't, let me know. I like hearing from you.**

* * *

**30 Years Old**

When Santana entered their loft after dinner out, she found a slightly harried-looking Quinn just standing in the kitchen leaned against the kitchen counter. She put her bag on the floor, "What's up—where's the troop?"

"Rach is giving them a bath." The children at four still bathed together.

Santana nodded, "And you're letting her do that alone because?"

"I just needed a quick time out."

Parenthood wasn't easy and all of the adjustments to it had been the most difficult for Quinn. She was a fantastic and engaged mother but now she was living with six other people, not three. And when you added Puck and Sam who were over constantly, it was eight. Interacting with that many people she had to be nice to on a daily basis was, and Santana knew it, something of a nightmare for her.

"Okay. That's cool. I'll go help. You know Rach—the kids'll be alright but they might drown her."

"I know—and I sort of perhaps suggested that and she became a little 'you think I can't bathe my own children by myself!' with me."

"Oh—I get it. A time-out from Rach, not the kids."

Quinn nodded, "Where's Britts?"

"She'll be here in about thirty—that dancer kid we had chow with needed to get back into the studio. What'd you guys have?"

"Kid food. Faux fish sticks and green beans with almonds and some sort of new braised carrot thing that was pretty good, actually. Plus bread and milk."

"She's determined to feed them carrots, isn't she?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, we don't have to interrupt but I like to listen outside—Rach brings the crazy out."

Quinn smiled and nodded.

They quietly walked down the hall to about fifteen feet of the open door main bath, where there seemed to be an inordinate amount of splashing going on. The acoustics were excellent, so they could hear Rachel's voice was exasperated yet oddly patient, "Quinn, Noah—boats of the nature you're sailing in this tub don't leap in and out of the water. They float placidly."

"Boring," Noah said. Splash!

"Wash, young men! One hand for the washcloth—one hand for the ship! Here's your soap floating peacefully—like your ships should be doing."

"Mommy Rachel?"

"Yes, Berry."

"I have questions."

"Okay."

"Noah has a penis."

Santana and Quinn looked at each other in the hall.

"He does, Berry. He's a boy. We've explained the difference between a boy and girl body."

"And Daddy's name is Noah. He has a penis?"

"He does."

"Quinn has a penis."

"Yes."

"Mommy Quinn's name is Quinn. Does she have a penis?"

Quinn's mouth dropped open and she saw that Santana looked like she'd just taken a bite of the most delicious piece of cake she'd ever eaten even as Rachel answered smoothly, "No. Your mommy Quinn is a girl so she doesn't have one. Your brother Quinn is a boy so he does. But I understand why the names confused you. Understand?"

"I guess."

As they continued to talk, Santana looked at her with such amusement that Quinn whispered, "Shut up."

Santana backed her against the hallway wall and whispered, "You know I've never even cared to get up into you and the midget's bed business since we've been kids but that's one thing I've always wondered. Care to share?"

They both continued to whisper, "What?"

"You know what. What Berry was sayin'. Do you have…_one_?"

Quinn looked into Santana's eyes. They were merely curious. They'd grown up. Why not answer? She shrugged and lifted an eyebrow, "Why would I settle for one?"

Santana's eyes widened but she nodded, "Ooh, baby girl. Check you out. Good for you."

"Like you don't?"

"Actually no. We're strangely enough accessory-free. But I thought you guys might not be and I didn't sorta know how to broach this topic but Berry gave us a good segue."

"What are you talking about?"

"The kids are mobile embarrassment finders now so it's sort of a law of parenthood if you leave that junk in a place that's not locked up, one day one of them's going to plonk something down on the coffee table in front of guests."

Quinn thought about the utterly possible horror of that and said, "I'll buy something tomorrow."

"Cool—and I didn't mean you had to be embarrassed about—"

"I'm not embarrassed in the least. It's completely private but I'm not ashamed of any of the ways Rachel and I love each other."

Santana smiled, "And I love hearing you say that. Since you're being all sex-positive here, I'm going to ask you one other burning question I've had the fucking circumspection not to ask for years because I didn't want to get all up in your artistic process."

"Okay."

"That scene in Two Women, One Man, where Rach's character pushes yours against a wall and kisses her until she comes. Because I know you've said Rach can do that to you. That was real, wasn't it? You actually did that on film."

Quinn suddenly had the hottest 'yeah I did it and liked it' look on her face that Santana had ever seen. But she merely said, "Uh huh."

Santana ran her hands through her hair. "Wow. Just fuck. Okay. You filmed a real sex scene with your wife for worldwide theatrical distribution? Did Joe and Zac know?"

"No! Of course not! It'd be the height of non-professionalism. And I'm sure Britts knows but no one else except us four know for sure. The world can just think I'm a really great actor."

"And the rest of it? The love scene?"

"That was completely staged—nothing there."

"Okay. Still wrapping my mind around that but in the spirit of complete candor?"

"Yeah?"

"Me and Britts sometimes watch that before we…you know."

Quinn hissed, "No you don't!"

"Oh yeah we do."

"That's sick!"

"What—two hot girls?"

"But it's us!"

"No. It's your characters."

"That's such sophistry I'm not even going to dignify it. But if _you_ do that…oh my God. If you ever tell Puck—I will—"

"Please. Like I ever would. Let that boy wonder. But he's burned a hole in his DVD too, promise."

Quinn took a breath, rested her head against the wall and said, "I'm not sorry."

"Don't be. It's an Easter Egg for us four. Although I'm not sure I should bring Easter into it."

"Right? Please don't. But I get the point."

Santana reached out and ran a hand through Quinn's hair. "I can think of a lot of reasons why you'd do that. You owned her, owned yourself and completely dissed your fucking sperm donor for the whole world to see. And was that a healthy reason? Maybe. Maybe not. But good for you if it helped."

"It wasn't really that simple, Santana. It was something about me only for me, not ever to talk to you or even Rachel about—but I felt better after I'd done it. And if that seems enigmatic, a girl has to keep some mystery."

"Fair enough."

A very aggrieved Rachel shouted, "Whatever you're whispering out there isn't getting your children bathed!"

Santana and Quinn found what they expected. A wet floor, a drenched Rachel and Noah, Quinn and Berry sitting in a tub full of bubbles. They always sat in the tub along birth order, which was a little ridiculous for triplets.

Noah and Quinn were sturdy little guys with the dark skin of their biological parents. Noah had a crewcut, which Quinn had nearly murdered his father for. Quinn had a regular little boy hair-cut. Berry's hair was very long and was extremely wavy and Rachel had put it up in a scrunchie for the bath.

She was an incredibly tiny child and Rachel had fretted about it so much that she'd scheduled an extra visit to their pediatrician who'd heard the complaint, took one discerning look at her and said, 'How tall do you think _you_ were when you were four?' It had been slightly embarrassing.

"Look who I found outside, guys? Your _mami_."

Santana leaned down and kissed each in turn. "Okay, Rach, what stage are we at in this operation? Q—get some towels—this floor's lethal."

Quinn threw down a few towels to soak up the worst of the water as Rachel answered, "Berry is done. The boys have been very recalcitrant in washing due to their fleet of ships."

Quinn kissed Rachel on the head, "Go get dried off, angel. We'll handle this."

"Actually, I may as well take a quick shower."

"Do it."

"Thank you."

Quinn stared into the tub, "Tell your Mommy Rachel thank you."

They all nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome!"

"First thing's first—gotta land this fish." Santana reached into the tub and lifted Berry out, took a seat on the commode and wrapped a towel around her.

"I'm not a fish, _mami_."

"I calls it likes I sees it."

"I'm a girl. I don't have a penis."

"You know what? Let's not talk about penises anymore tonight."

"Why?"

"Because I want to see if you're a fish or a little girl." She dried her and took the scrunchie out of the girl's hair and it fell down onto her shoulders. "What do ya know. You _are _a little girl."

"I know. My hair is pretty."

"It is. Now let's get some PJs." She sifted through the PJs on the countertop and said, "Where are yours?"

"I want to be naked!"

Noah said, "She put them back in the room."

Quinn shook her head, "_When_, Noah?"

"When you and Mommy Rachel were talking about the bath."

"I want to be naked!" Berry announced again. This was a relatively new initiative on Berry's part—the embracing of a nudist lifestyle.

"I know you do, Berry, but little girls and boys have to wear clothes except at bathtime. Those are the rules."

"No!"

The boys in the tub actually sighed.

Santana knelt down and said, "What'd you say to me little girl?"

Berry shrugged off the towel and began to march away and Santana snapped her fingers, "Oh hell no. Stop right there, Beryl Pierce or you'll be in time-out til you're 20!"

At that Beryl did stop at the threshold of the door, turned and shouted, "No time out!"

Santana put up her hand and said, "This child done lost her mind. _What_?"

"_Mami_?"

"Yes, baby boy?"

"She got time-out already."

Santana looked at Quinn, who shook her head.

"When?"

Little Quinn said, "At school."

Quinn raised her hand to keep Santana from speaking, "Berry, come here."

The little girl walked back into the room. No matter how sweet and open and loving Quinn was, all of the children seemed a little over-awed of her. Berry would glare at everything and everyone but Quinn.

"I know you're mad right now so I won't hug you but why'd you get time out today?"

Berry lowered her little head and whispered, "I talked in quiet time."

"You're still mad you had time out, aren't you?"

The girl nodded.

"And you're mad because you can't be naked."

Another nod.

"That was naughty of you to talk in quiet time and to talk to your _mami_ that way."

That—being told she was wrong? Quinn could see the anger building and that the little girl wanted to rush out but because she knew she couldn't, it made her so much angrier and how familiar was that? Oh, the horrors of a thwarted diva storm-out.

"I know you need to leave the room and calm down, Berry. And we'll let you and it's not a time out, okay? But you can't walk there naked, especially after you were naughty about your PJs. Those are the rules. Your _mami_ can wrap you in a towel and take you. How about that?"

The little girl scowled at the ground and then stamped it with one foot. At this point no one in the house knew whether that was just something she'd seen Rachel do or whether it was just the pony genes.

She finally huffed and nodded.

Santana rolled her eyes, wrapped the child tenderly in a towel and picked her up and made a face at the boys, who smiled.

"San please just keep her from making an atom bomb while me and these guys talk, okay?"

She sat by the tub looking at them and they at her. "So. How are you guys? Need a little top-up of hot water?"

They nodded. She said as she added some hot water to the tub, "What's wrong guys? But before you tell me—have you washed those faces?"

They both shook their heads. She scrubbed their washcloths and handed them to them. "Get going—I'm not raising men who can't even wash their own faces."

They dutifully scrubbed and she helped them with rinsing and then asked, "What's up? You guys usually talk a little more."

They looked at each other and then at her. She understood.

"Berry talks a lot doesn't she?"

They nodded vigorously.

"And sometimes she talks so much and needs so much attention you don't get any, right?"

They nodded.

Little Quinn girded up his courage and whispered, "She's obnoxious."

Quinn gaped, then asked, "Where'd you hear that word?"

"_Mami_."

"About Berry?"

Noah shook his head. "About Mommy Rachel."

Okay. Her kids weren't dumb.

"Keep scrubbing guys—get those arms and your chests washed. I'll let you in on a little secret, okay?"

They nodded as they scrubbed. "Berry can't help being how she is. Just like you, Noah, like cars and trucks and airplanes and Quinn likes dinosaurs and dancing with your mommy. Remember that—that's who Berry is. But I know what you're saying is that you'd like special time, too, and to talk first sometimes, too?"

Tears filled Little Quinn's eyes. "Today we got to see a yellow frog. I like frogs more but Berry told Mommy Rachel first. I wanted to."

She rubbed his head, "Okay, little guy. I understand. We'll work on that, okay? So that you guys get to talk more because all of us want to hear you too, okay? Now, all clean?"

They nodded and she helped them step out, dry, and don their PJs.

"Okay!" She knelt down and smiled at them, "I'm so happy you're my little boys." She held out her arms and…looking at her…they sometimes didn't know how to breathe around their Mommy Quinn. They hugged her. And she kissed them.

She stood and said, "Anything else we need to talk about, guys?"

The boys looked at each other and Little Quinn said, "They're mean."

"Who is, baby boy."

"At school."

"Kids are? To you?"

"No. Berry."

She knelt once more because actually her knees had buckled. She composed herself. "Kids are mean to Berry?"

They both nodded.

She knew she had to compose herself and she was a fucking Fabray and could do it. "How are they mean?"

"They say mean things."

"Okay—thanks for telling me. And you can always tell me or any of us if people are mean, okay?"

"Okay."

"Let's go talk to the family."

* * *

Brittany had joined them and evidently Santana had made up with Berry if the fact the girl was resting in her arms with pink PJs was any indication. Rachel was sitting next to Santana with her head on her shoulder.

Brittany took one look at Quinn's face as she led the boys into the room and said, "What's wrong?"

"Little Quinn and Noah told me some things about school and I want to talk to you guys about them, okay?"

Rachel felt sick at the look on Quinn's face and Santana sat up and gripped her daughter tighter. Brittany said, "You guys come sit with me. I've missed you." They clambered onto their mommy's knees.

Quinn sat took a seat next to Santana. "Berry, baby?"

Berry blinked at her, "Are you mad?"

"Not a bit. I want to ask you some questions, okay?"

Berry rested her head on Santana's chest but nodded.

"Do you like school?"

There was a long pause. "Coloring and song time."

"Do you have friends at school?"

Long pause.

"Quinn and Noah."

"That's good. Are the other kids mean to you?"

She didn't answer.

"Do they say mean things to you?"

She sighed. "Stupid, pop-eye, big nose, midget. Dumb. Shut up, shut up, shut up."

Santana closed her eyes. Quinn didn't dare look at Rachel.

"Sweetie, does that make you sad?"

She shrugged her tiny shoulders.

Brittany looked from Quinn to Rachel to San and patted her boys on their little rumps, "Power up, rangers." They leapt up.

She crossed and grabbed Berry and swung her up on her shoulders, which always thrilled the little girl and this was no exception. She burst into giggles. "Look around, Berry—see how tall you are?"

"Uh huh."

"This is how tall you really are. People just don't know it. You're a giant princess but there's a magical spell on everyone that makes them think you're tiny. It's not your fault they can't see it."

"Really?"

"Totally."

She swung her down and waved at the boys. "Bring it in." She got on her knees, "We're all super sad kids are saying mean stuff to you Berry and we know that hurts you, too, guys, but I totally promise I know how to fix it, okay?"

They nodded vehemently. Their relationship with their mommy was very different than with their other mothers. Mommy actually knew things.

"And look at me. It won't be tomorrow and you'll have to do things with me for a lot of days so I can show you how but I promise it'll get better okay, Berry?"

"Okay, mommy."

"Okay—now me and your mommies have to have mommy talk now so hug them and play a game together okay? And then you can have some soya and a cookie each and I'll do some flips for you."

They all rushed around and hugged the stunned other mothers in the room and then rushed right out.

Rachel began to cry, "That was cruel! How could you tell her that!"

"What, Rach?"

"That you could fix it?"

Brittany shrugged, "Because I know what's wrong now—and I've been thinking about it for months. I'm like one of six parents and I'm not like go to girl for people wanting to know anything. But sorry, guys, it's Brittany time. Those are the rules. I get to talk."

Brittany both was and wasn't the girl she'd been as a teen. Exposure to many other people and social and professional situations that had expected far more of her than her oldest friends had changed her perhaps the most of all of them.

She looked at Rachel's weeping and Quinn looking like she'd been hit and San looking so sad and mad and said, "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking Berry's going to have to be sad like Rach for tons of years but that's not going to happen. And you have to let me talk and some of this will seem maybe totally mean about Berry and about you Rach but I love both of you so much I would die for you. It's been happening a long time. A big problem Berry has at school is she's a complete brat. Like, the biggest brat I've ever known and I grew up with you and San, Rach."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, but it's true. And this is where this will seem super mean but listen, Rach, because I'm trying to help, okay?"

Rachel nodded.

"She's so sweet and so loving and so adorable and smart. But she wants everything. Everything. All the attention, all the love—everything first. You ever notice she'll give Quinn and Noah all her cookies as long as she gets the first one? She's sort of out of control because we let her be and that's not fair. To her or to the guys."

Quinn could see this was going to be extremely provocative to Rachel, took a seat by her and held her hand.

"I've thought about it—why do we let her get away with so much when the little guys don't get away with anything? And at first I thought it was because it was because she was so little and she was our girl and she was so funny and so Rachel. Because we love you so much, Rach. And then, like one night I got this big—OH—thing. Oh. We're all doing a reset for you, Rach. We get to do it all over again—but this time better and this time little Rachel won't ever have to be sad and it'll be ponies and kittens and unicorns for her. I know why me and Q and San are doing it because we made you so sad but you're doing it because_ you_ were sad."

Rachel was crying and Quinn was refusing to. Santana looked like she was chewing on her cheek not to.

"She's not you, Rachel. She's not Rachel, guys. She's her own little person. And I know she's totally just like you, Rach, in a lot of ways but she's not going to_ be_ you. She has six parents. She has two brothers. She's going to be different, guys, because she has to learn to share. Now. We can't raise two stand-ins and a star. We have to raise three children."

Rachel actually never underestimated Brittany, although Santana and Quinn occasionally did. "I can see where this is going, Brittany. It's running perilously close to saying I deserved some of the treatment I got as a child."

Santana said, "No, Rachel—that's not what—"

"San? I'm speaking. I can tell her what I'm saying."

Santana nodded. It was an old habit that was dying hard.

"I'm not saying that. She doesn't deserve to be treated badly and you didn't either and what we did in school was super crazy. Kids suck and you deserved a happier time at school, okay? I'm so sorry to ask you this question but it might make you feel better about Berry, okay?"

Rachel was completely in a corner and Quinn could feel it rolling off in waves from her. "What?"

Brittany steeled herself, "Be honest, Rach. What age do you think you started understanding that other people's stuff mattered? When did you really start thinking about them? What age? Be honest."

"About fifteen."

"And when did school get a little better for you?"

Rachel nodded, "Fifteen." Her voice was cold. "I see. So, if we can make Berry see the error of her ways now, we can help her avoid what I went through. Okay. I'm on board."

All of them could see this was really not going over well.

"Rach, no."

"No—I get it, Brittany. I totally get it. I was a self-absorbed and obnoxious only child. I was a lightning-rod for fucked up school bullshit for that reason. But she won't be that. Good to know. She'll have a happier life if we help her adjust to her temperament better than my parents could for me because I was an only child with only two parents to count on. Good plan. Great plan, even. I wholeheartedly agree. Let's get it in motion."

Quinn said, "Angel."

Rachel jumped up but she did keep her voice low because of the children. "No!"

"That's why! I SUCKED because I didn't know how to DO LIFE. And you guys evidently did. And you know what? This is the first time in my life I've ever really felt I sort of got what I deserved. Thank you for that Brittany S. Pierce. But you're right, so don't feel bad about that and it will help Berry so that's the important thing right now and thank you. But I don't even want to SEE you people right now. I seriously don't. You fucked me over for something I couldn't help and didn't know how to and…fuck you. I look at Berry and yeah…fuck you. You all did that to a little kid who was only two years older than Berry is now who didn't have two brothers—who had _no one_ but my parents who did their best. Don't try to talk to me right now or I promise I will make a scene and our children don't deserve it. I'm smart enough to know I need to get out of this house right now."

"No! Where?"

"I don't care, Quinn! Out. Of. Here." She actually ran out of the room.

Santana had Britts to deal with but she grabbed Quinn, "Let her cool off!"

"She's not your wife!"

"Fine! Go badger her and make her scare the kids when she's out of her mind—that'll help!"

Quinn stood there in agony and Rachel came back from their room with only a handbag and took in the scene.

Quinn looked completely devastated. A tearful Santana was petting over Brittany, who was sitting on the couch and blankly staring out into space.

Rachel felt deeply hurt in a way she hadn't known since she'd been a kid but she'd hurt Brittany. Nobody hurt Brittany.

She crossed the room, climbed into Brittany's lap and began to weep. As she'd never cried in her life. Brittany held her for a long, long time and said, "You guys take care of the kids. We'll be okay."

* * *

When they went to their room after a couple of hours, they'd gotten into the bed and the room was dark. Rachel said, "I'm sorry, Quinn, for the drama and I'll talk about Berry and this issue. But I don't ever want to talk about how I feel about me because of this again or even this night. If you love me at all, please don't push that."

"Okay. Viking funeral?"

"Biggest yet. Bigger than being gay-bashed."

Quinn felt tears in her eyes. "Okay."

"I can't let you be there because you're such a big part of it so—hold my hand?"

"Forever."

After maybe thirty minutes, Rachel sighed. "That was good."

"Yeah? I'm glad, angel."

"Thanks for staying awake with me."

"Of course."

"I put fireworks onboard—for you."

Quinn smiled, "Yeah?"

"I really did. Like Fourth of July. You deserve something spectacular."

Quinn snorted.

Rachel stroked their joined hands with her thumb, "Don't think I don't know how much all of this with me and with Berry must have been hitting your guilt buttons even before I went off on you. I'm sorry but I don't believe I can talk to you about that vis a vis this evening. I don't think it would be productive for us. We're living something with our child now that has so many parallels with our past and I really think we should leave the past in the past. I know what I said hurt you and you make have taken from it that I haven't forgiven you but I have. Completely. But if you remember the first time we talked about this when we were sixteen, I told you I'd forgive but that I'd never forget. I haven't. If you feel you need to talk, please talk to San or skype with Dr. Southerland. Promise me?"

"I do promise—and yes, I do think I probably need to. I'll schedule a session."

"Good. Thank you, Quinn."

Moments passed.

"This is our biggest fight ever."

"It wasn't even a fight—it was a caterwaul."

"It felt much worse than that word."

Longer moments passed in the dark.

"Are we okay, Rachel?"

"Of course we are, Quinn. I want to say one more thing about this evening. I was wrong to threaten to leave the house. If we ever have a fight, I may have to leave the room and you may have to give me time. But I will never leave the house because I'm never leaving you. Okay?"

"That really scared me."

"I know—and I shouldn't have done it. So now we're okay. And in fact…so okay could we make up now?"

"You mean _make up_ make up?"

"Yes. If you feel up to it."

"Absolutely I do. But before that, how about this? Did you know that San and Britts watch our love scene to get in the mood?"

Rachel kicked her foot in the bed. "That's not true!"

"Apparently it is."

"That's surprisingly sexy to me, Quinn, for reasons I'll leave unspoken."

"Thank you for that. And oh—you've missed a lot—I have to get something to lock our stuff up in."

"What stuff?"

"Our toys."

"You know, I've decided the word toys doesn't adequately describe their purpose. How about WMD—for weapons of mutual delectation?"

"O-kay. Did you give a lot thought to that, Rach?"

"Don't be a smart-aleck. Why do we have to lock them up?"

"For the kids' sake. Because they might not be looking for WMDs but they'll find them."

Rachel thought about that. "Ah. Right. Good idea."

Long, long pause.

"And on that very specific note, Quinn, back to this making up we're doing. See if you can read my mind."

"I can. That's a great idea."

* * *

Santana and Brittany were lying next to each other on the same pillow.

"You sure you're okay, Britts? I know it must have hurt bad for Rach to take what you said that way when you were just trying to help."

"Sure—but she was only mad because she knew I was right. I mean, it's hard like when you just turn your head slightly—like light in a prism, right? And you see things totally differently. She didn't like to know that there were a lot of reasons kids might not have liked her that were real. I mean, she probably totally has always known that in the back of her mind. But people were so mean for so long I don't know how she would have maybe even wanted to live if she didn't make it all about them. You remember when we had to do some of those super scary stunts that would like probably cripple you if you messed up?"

Santana nodded.

"You can't hesitate ever when you do them because that's when you fall. If she hesitated and thought, 'Maybe this is partly me,' I think school would have totally crushed her. I'm glad Rach didn't hesitate. And she's right—she didn't have anyone so that makes her super braver that she didn't. She'll be okay about this. When she sort of plays the story to the end, she'll know that even though she wasn't perfect, she still didn't deserve to get hurt the way she was and it still didn't make the other kids less wrong. I know she won't talk to Quinn about it because it brings up stuff that hurts them. And please don't bring it up with her if she doesn't talk first. I can handle it. She'll talk to me."

"So the bromance continues."

Brittany smiled. "Always."

Santana and Brittany had been together twenty-seven years and they sometimes almost spoke in shorthand.

"Want to make out, B?"

Brittany thought about it. "Not really. You?"

"No. But thought I'd offer. I sort of still feel like I got slayed and reanimated tonight. Berry, then Rach and you. Holy shit."

"Yeah. Me, too. Wanna watch a movie?"

"Sure. Hey—Q admitted she totally did the big O in the movie."

"Right? That was obvious."

"But it's a secret."

"I know that, San. But she does look really pretty like that."

* * *

Quinn heard her phone vibrate. She knew hundreds of people but literally no one had her 'real' phone number except about 20 people she considered family. Rachel growled in disbelief as Quinn stopped what she was doing to answer it. After all at this time of night, it could be an emergency. Quinn looked at it and rolled her eyes. The post modern-age when people texted within the same house.

**Santana Lopez: Guess what me and B are watching?**

**Quinn Fabray: Guess what me and R are DOING? **

**Santana Lopez: Oh, snap—sorry**

* * *

They had already decided on very reasonable rules for the children's behavior before this incident. One of the differences now was that they actually enforced them with Berry.

The lessons, which Brittany began to teach immediately, were basically role-modeling for Berry. Brittany had no training. She simply pretended she was a little schoolmate, which she naturally did quite well, interacting with Berry every night for thirty minutes.

They also made it a rule that Berry and Noah and Quinn had to alternate days telling what happened at school first, as well as what movie or game would be played. It was sometimes murderously hard for Berry and she showed it and showed out and rebelled but the attention they were paying her made her happy. She stormed in and out of it but she seemed ultimately to like it because feeling there were rules that she shared with her brothers and that her parents had loving control of her made her able to relax a bit.

The boys bloomed and were startlingly talkative. And as months went by all of them noticed that the boys attitude toward Berry was changing. Although they'd always protected her, they now seemed to like her. She was still the same kid but with much of the heat taken off her megalomania, they actually began to treat her much like Santana and Quinn treated Rachel, with loving, exasperated fondness.

**Four Months Later**

Rachel brought the children home from school and Berry was so wound-up that Quinn stared at her. "What's wrong, honey?"

"It's Quinn's day to talk first. Quinn, go fast! Please."

Little Quinn smiled. "I give Berry my turn."

Rachel smiled, "Really?"

Noah answered, "She had a good day."

Rachel asked, "What happened?"

Berry climbed into her lap. The boys liked hugs and occasionally sitting on a lap but Berry sat on everyone. "Alice and Hannah sat with me and played with me at recess!"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's terrific."

"I think they're my friends."

Quinn closed her eyes and sent up a prayer of gratitude.

"Isn't that nice, Berry?"

Berry nodded her head. That seemed to be all.

Noah said, "She forgot she got to sing all by herself at song time."

"You did? How'd that go?"

Little Quinn offered, "She was good. We clapped."

"You did have a big day. Did you forget you sang, sweetie?" This was incomprehensible to Rachel.

Berry nodded, "Friends are better than singing."

Rachel hugged her daughter as she looked at her wife, "Yes they are, sweetie."

Quinn said, "Next up to the plate is my batter boy Quinn. How was your day, bud?"

"Berry played with girls so I played with the boys."

"You don't usually play with the boys?"

"No. Me and Noah play with Berry."

That was so sweet but sad that they didn't do things because Berry couldn't. "Was that fun? And before you answer, it's Noah and I, not me and Noah."

"_Mami _always says 'Me and Britts.'"

"She does, but she knows the rules of grammar. You have to know the rules before you get to break them. So—was that fun?"

"Yeah. We played. And I did cartwheels and roundoffs."

The little boy was a natural dancer and gymnast and pestered Brittany for lessons.

"Let me guess. The guys thought you were cool because you could do that?"

He nodded happily. "Noah's turn."

"I played dodgeball with the boys."

"Fun?"

"Yes."

Berry piped up, "Mona kissed Noah."

"Berry!"

"Sorry, Noah."

"A girl kissed you, Noah?"

He blushed. "Yes."

"What'd you do?"

"It was dumb. I said thank you."

And so it begins, Quinn thought. "That was very polite of you, sweetie."

He shrugged.

Little Quinn added, "I forgot I kissed Bethany today."

Noah looked at him in horror. "You kissed a _girl_?"

Little Quinn nodded.

Quinn looked at him and couldn't help herself. "You kissed a girl and you liked it?"

Little Quinn nodded emphatically, "Yes."

"A man after my own heart. And I want to really thank you guys for being such good brothers to Berry, okay?"

Little Quinn smiled.

Noah shrugged, "She's my Jew. I got her back."

Quinn stared at the boy. "Excuse me? Did your father—Berry's not your Jew—she's your sister."

He shook his head, "I know. But Daddy said Mommy Rachel's his Jew and Berry's my Jew. We got their backs. It's a Noah…" he searched for the word, "tradition."

Rachel saw the slightly murderous look in Quinn's eyes, "Baby. Calm down. Noah, I understand you want to carry on your father's tradition. Berry can be your Jew at home but you can't call her that at school or anywhere else. Only at home. I'm very serious, okay?"

"Okay."

Santana and Brittany walked in at that moment, "What's shakin' bacon?"

"What a nice segue for this Jewish conversation." Quinn asked the children, "Can I tell?"

They nodded.

"Berry made two friends today. The boys got to play with the boys for a change and Noah got kissed by a girl and Quinn kissed a girl."

"Hell yeah! Right? All my kids got game at age four. That's what I'm talking 'bout."

But Quinn and Rachel could see the immense relief in Santana's eyes.

Brittany hadn't had a doubt in the world.

* * *

**A/N There you go folks!  
**

1,037,906


	71. Chapter 71

**A/N: Previous disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Except for the part that it was going to be short and wasn't massively AU. Oops. **

**On to the story! These are flashbacks and snapshots. If you remember, we left them at age 30.**

**Now we're going back to…oh…the places we'll go. It IS disjointed so just read for the glimpses of these people at different times. It will include tweets and evidently can't even use an 'at' instead of the real sign on this site. If people are tweeting by the names I give these characters' twitter names, I don't know—and don't care but don't want to get in their space.**

**This got so long I had to break it down. So two more chapters.**

* * *

**19 Years Old-It Had Been Very Romantic**

Rachel and Quinn, Santana and Brittany were snuggled up in pairs watching a movie. They were interrupted by Quinn's phone.

She picked it up, read and returned a text. "Sorry guys. Press play."

"Who was that?' Rachel hoped she sounded nonchalant.

"Katya—my partner in a ridiculous Theatre 101 exercise. She thinks an assignment means we're bffs. Hit it."

Santana hit play.

Minutes went by before Rachel asked, "Is she pretty?"

Santana rolled her eyes. For months they'd been hearing this. Now that they went to different schools, it had just, out of the blue, seemed to suddenly _occur _to Rachel that Quinn was a lesbian and an outrageously beautiful one and that there actually were other females on the planet who might conceivably want her. She was not handling that knowledge well.

Santana knew Quinn would never, ever call bullshit if Rachel wanted to talk. She'd always answer her, no matter what.

"Is who pretty, Rachel?"

"Katya."

"I don't know. I guess. In a pseudo-Nordic blonde girl way. She exists and I see her but who cares?"

Minutes passed before Rachel spoke again, "I suppose there are lots of pretty girls at Columbia."

Santana rolled her eyes again.

Quinn answered, "I suppose."

Minutes passed and Rachel sighed so often and so profoundly that Quinn finally grabbed the remote from Santana, paused the movie and said "Rachel, what do you need? Would it make you feel better if I asked you to marry me?"

Quinn had been joking but Rachel's response was instantly chirpy, "Yes, Quinn! I want a civil ceremony as quickly as possible, if you don't mind. We can have another family-centric ceremony to commemorate our commitment at a later date!"

Quinn stared at her in complete disbelief for a moment but saw the girl was serious. "Fine. Consider yourself asked."

"Consider yourself answered! In the affirmative!"

A half-minute went by.

Santana was disgusted. "For reals? That's _it_? You know what? Commitment's the word. As into a mental ward."

"Lefty?" Quinn lifted an eyebrow.

"Right. Mazel tov! Back to the movie."

She and Brittany glanced at each other.

Wow.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, on a bathroom break, Santana barged into their bathroom, grabbed Rachel, lifted her and placed her on the bathroom counter before she could speak.

She clapped a forceful hand over Rachel's mouth and hissed, "That was the _definition_ of bullshit. My cap just joke-asked you to marry her because you're all jelly about some fucking coed you've never even seen and you said _yes_? The fuck? And you all squirrelly and 'Isn't that nice' because you know she'd do whatever you want because she's under your thumb. But guess what? She's not getting engaged to you because you're a jealous asshat. Not on my watch."

Rachel blinked wildly.

"I love you more than I love breathing but what the fuck's _wrong_ with you? Q wears Rachel goggles 24/7/365. You are so…oh my God-_fuck_! I fucking know you'd want golden fountains of love and pink unicorns on fire and shit for a proposal and my girl would break her back happily to give you that but you didn't even give her a chance. You grabbed what you could with your bullshit insecurity and took something she wanted to give you away from her."

Santana pushed her back into the bathroom mirror.

"Listen to me, little girl. You'll hurt her feelings forever knowing that's how you got engaged if you leave it this way. She's a fucking woman, too, you dumbass, so don't think she doesn't want and deserve something better than this. And don't think she wouldn't be on the same end of this shit with me if she'd done this with you."

Santana pushed Rachel's shoulder with her free hand forcefully into the bathroom mirror, "You're a clueless (push) self-absorbed (push) asshole (push). If you want to get married so fucking bad, ask _her_ to marry _you_, got me? Fix this shit tonight or I promise I'll fix you. Nod if you understand."

Rachel nodded.

Santana lifted her hand and pointed one finger in Rachel's face, "Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm kidding."

Rachel immediately fixed it by excusing herself and Quinn. After about twenty minutes, they re-emerged with Quinn looking incandescently happy. Engaged for real this time.

Santana felt a wave of blissful relief but she simply glowered at Rachel before turning back to the television. And smiled.

Which was how, eight days later, they found themselves having a simple no-frills civil service with only Brittany, Santana, Eric, Jacob and Judy as witnesses. It was more than enough for Quinn. That Rachel was so obviously and joyfully satisfied marrying in such a pedestrian way made Quinn's heart feel, like the Grinch's, three sizes larger.

Apropos, because when they put their rings on each other's fingers, Quinn nearly laughed. They'd both agreed they wanted simple, traditional wedding rings. She'd chosen a slender band sized for Rachel. The one Rachel had chosen for her was correctly sized but was easily three times the width. Evidently Rachel wanted no misunderstanding about the meaning of the ring. With this ring, I thee WED. She smiled as Rachel put it on her hand. She'd wear a token from Jealous!Rachel on her hand forever. It didn't bother her one bit. In fact, it felt perfect.

**20 Years Old. Rachel's dressing room after her opening night on Broadway**

* * *

Rachel wasn't sure it was permissible to have so many people in one room. Surely firefighters might be invoked. Standing room only. The Glee club, her parents, Brittany and Santana's parents, and Mike and Tina's parents. Dr. Mac, Vinnie. It was a little insane and a lot overwhelming. She felt an overflow of what she'd never had but nearly laughed when she realized it might actually be possible to have too much love in a room. She watched in dismay as the door opened, _again_, but took one look, ran and leapt into a man's open arms. "Officer Miller!"

"Hi little bit. You didn't think my missus would let me miss this, did you?"

She sighed and held him for a long time before turning to the woman beside him, plump and with hair whiter than her husband's. Only slightly taller than she was and smiling like Rachel imagined, if she had a mother beside Judy, a mother would smile at her. Recognition and enormous pride. They'd met a few times and Regina had been front and center for their Glee Club's win at Nationals.

She hugged her and asked. "Did you like it?"

Did she like it? This woman had just torn the roof off of a Broadway theater and still, such a little girl hopeful look of needing acceptance. "I loved it, Rachel. I'm so proud of you. So incredibly proud. You were amazing. I told Teddy years ago you'd be here so I get bragging rights forever for this."

Rachel always wanted to cry around Regina. Because someone had believed in her. All the stupid MySpace stuff—all the effort she'd put out into the universe. Someone who didn't know her at all had found her and had cared enough to believe in her. She'd signed her first autograph to the woman. And here they were again. "Regina, you and Officer Miller are coming home with us, okay?"

"Really?"

"I can't promise it might not be insane because we'll have Bon and Ms. Sokoll and they're old school Eastern Bloc and they'll scowl a lot and may feel the need to forecast the future in the middle of the party. But I can promise good food and drink and you, Officer Miller, will obviously ignore the fact that although I'm not 21, I might have an adult beverage because my wife can steer me safely down the hall to our bedroom. I don't want anyone around me except people I love tonight. That's you. Will you come?"

"Of course."

"Excellent!"

* * *

**24 Years Old**

Valerie Constanza was seventeen years old and a very talented and very troubled teen movie star. She'd been stunned to be cast with Quinn Fabray as her older half-sister. Quinn had clearly been displeased with her casting and, so far, it was proving to be the scariest experience of her young life.

After one week of filming, Quinn knocked on her trailer door and when the girl opened it, barged in and slammed the door behind her. "We're having a come to Jesus, Valerie. Because you're Catholic and I'm so very nearly."

Valerie immediately backed up and sat down on her trailer's couch because Quinn was looking at her like she might kill her. She was actually physically afraid and grabbed her open can of Coke as a possible weapon.

"Look at me and hear me." Quinn almost growled and Valerie gripped her can of Coke more tightly.

"I _knew_ this was a shit idea. You're _exactly _what we want in talent but _not_ what we need. AT ALL!"

Quinn closed her eyes and seemed to be counting to ten.

She opened them and lowered her voice. "You don't get to treat people on this set like they're dirt beneath your feet, little girl. Acting is a job. Maybe you don't understand that and think being a movie star means something special. It doesn't. It's just like flipping fucking burgers at McDonalds for better money. It's a _job_. You've been showing up at your job and treating everyone like shit except our director because he's your paycheck and me because you're scared of me. You've been late every day and completely disrespectful and EVERYONE can see you're hungover. You're a fucking child, Valerie, and if your parents won't intervene because they're morons or won't tip their cash-cow, I will. I can see where you're going. You're a TMZ exclusive all the time. But you're not going to be a fucking Lindsay Lohan for seven weeks on my time or dime. I can and will cause a force majeure incident that will end this movie. Do you understand me?"

Valerie didn't and the look on her face said so.

"That means I will walk the fuck off this movie and that will cost millions—and they'll sue me for every cent of it. Not you. _Me_. Don't think I won't. It'll put 129 people whose names I _do_ choose to know and you don't even care to learn out of their jobs. You don't even think about that, do you? The fucking grips who put our lighting up for us get to pay their rent because they're working on this movie. The people who feed us on set have families who depend on this job."

She jabbed at the air with an index finger, "The job of the quote unquote talent on any movie is not to swan around acting like the world owes them a fucking ice cream sundae because they deign to breathe in their presence. You show up and do a fucking job so a lot of other people get to have their jobs and feed their families. We get paid the big bucks and that means big responsibility. They _depend_ on us, Valerie. Literally. It would kill me to hurt them but I will end this movie for you. I don't care. I do not fucking care. You're such a talented kid but you're _not _going to act this way and you _will_ get help if I have to hurt you. I can and I will. Don't think otherwise. You deserve better in life than to act this way."

Valerie shook her head. "What does that even mean?"

"What does it mean? It means you're hitting a meeting tonight and every night of this shoot, rehab princess. With me."

Valerie threw her can of Coke at the wall. "Fuck that. Meetings are stupid."

Quinn was unimpressed. "Fine. I know better and you'll find better when you're sitting next to me."

"I can't GO to meetings—how about the press?"

"We're in fucking _Alabama_, Valerie. Meetings are anonymous. We're surrounded by Southerners who for the most part have a little something you haven't heard of called respect. I trust them. And you're going or it's not going to be pretty for you."

* * *

Quinn watched the gathering with an intensely anxious Valerie beside her. The people attending the AA meeting all rather obviously recognized both of them but just offered them very bad coffee in Styrofoam cups and smiled at them.

When the meeting started, Quinn held up her hand immediately and said, "I'm Quinn and I'm reading the Twelve Steps."

The people in the room nodded or said, "Hi, Quinn."

"I understand this is not the rule of order but I know you all know who I am. I'm not worried at all because I completely trust you will honor the tradition of anonymity. I'm not an alcoholic but I am a bully and I will always be a bully getting better one hour and one day at a time. Don't think I don't know it's not really appropriate for me to speak here. But I made sure this was an open meeting and I wanted to thank you right up front for putting up with my presence and for letting me hear your message of recovery and hope. I have a home AA group in New York I've been attending nearly every day for five years. They've put up with my bully self and they've even given me honorary chips and I have four years now.

In New York I could go to any crazy Dysfunction Anonymous meeting I want. And I tried a lot of them but I found my place and people like me in AA. People in real pain who have to walk the walk every day and just want to get better. My home group accepts me as I am so I hope you'll accept me while I'm here. I promise I'll shut up now and just listen from now on because I don't have the right to talk to you. I'll shut up and show up and listen and learn. But I will always offer to read the Twelve Steps or Traditions when no one else wants to. Because it's boring and we all know them now, right?"

Everyone laughed and nodded.

"Even so, we have to hear them again and again. I thank God for being able to share what we read at the beginning of every AA meeting. Living this program gives me the opportunity for love and balance in my life. I have that through the grace of my higher power and this program. I thank you all for listening as I read our Twelve Steps:

1. We admitted we were powerless—that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

3. We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God _as we understood Him._

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6. We became entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. We humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

8. We made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

9. We made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

10. We continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

11. We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, _as we understood Him_, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and practice these principles in all our affairs

"And one last thing, I've attended meetings in so many places—even Beverly Hills—and I want you to know the coffee tastes exactly the same in every single place in case you're wondering."

Everyone laughed.

As a man read the Twelve Traditions, Valerie felt breath nearly refusing to enter her lungs. She couldn't believe _Quinn Fabray _had said that, been that and read that to a roomful of strangers who could release it to the world.

When the man finished, she squared her jaw and raised her hand, "My name is Valerie. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi, Valerie."

* * *

Nothing…nothing at all, hit the press the next day. And never did for the rest of the shoot.

When Quinn and the family got back to New York, she picked up a white chip for bullying Valerie. And didn't regret it.

* * *

Nearly a year later, Valerie Constanza was sitting next to Quinn Fabray doing press for their movie. "Quinn is the worst costar ever!"

Quinn shrugged, "You see how youngsters treat me."

Valerie put her head on Quinn's shoulder for a couple of seconds then lifted it. "Seriously. She played my big sister in the movie but she really was and is. When we were shooting, she spent hours with me every day for almost two months. Every single day she took care of me. She completely took over and still does. She texts me every day and flies out to see me all the time. I mean, is it insane that Rachel Berry—_Rachel Berry_ is giving me voice lessons?"

"Val, she'd give a Komodo dragon voice lessons if it would sit still so don't make me seem like a total wuss."

Valerie giggled, "Quinn hates the cuddly. And I get tickets to S Lopez!"

Quinn laughed, "See? That's really all that actually matters, right?"

Valerie nodded and hugged Quinn.

Quinn patted her but said, "Jerk."

Valerie smiled into the camera. A happy and healthy smile.

* * *

**26 Years Old**

Mercedes and Kurt had gotten used to Santana calling on a dime and saying 'show up' somewhere in LA. They always did because hello? This time she'd said she needed four hours and when they'd walked into an innocuous-looking building and were ushered into the interior by the receptionist, they found themselves in a sound studio. Santana and Deryk were noodling around on a keyboard. Ryk was very much a behind the scenes guy but he'd moved to New York to be near her and they'd been working and writing together from day one after high school.

He waved at them, "Hi, guys."

They both smiled and said, "Hi."

Santana looked as if she were incredibly pissed off, which immediately made Kurt feel like she was just about to do something really, really nice for them.

She proceeded to. She handed them lyric sheets and said, "Hit it" to Ryk. He punched the keyboard and she began to sing. It was, from the lyrics, a duet and it had a ferocious beat but it was full of places for any diva to go.

When it was over, she looked at them and said, "There you go—your first single. Like it?"

Mercedes did a double take at Kurt and he spoke for her, "What single?"

"You guys kill the gossip and you can keep on killin' it but if you think we're letting you waste those voices, you're fucking crazy. That was your first single. We'll roll it out just like I did. On youtube. Quinn's on to direct the video—Britts and Mike will help with the choreography. We'll capitalize on your face recognition plus put the pedal down on your association with us."

She tapped her head with one finger and pointed at them. "Obviously you guys aren't a vocal match made in heaven but whatever. You can do it. And me and Ryk have written you twelve more songs for when people come begging. If you're smart you'll listen to me and my lawyer for the business. And news flash? You'll give Tina a guest spot on your CD or I'll cut you both in half with a rusty sword or something. Bottom line? You bitches are going to be pop stars. You may not as big as I am but that's happenin'. If only for the sheer fucking pleasure of thinking up names for your CDs. Chocolate Milk—The Wonder Years. Chocolate Milk—Chilled For Your Consumption."

Nothing made Santana more belligerent than doing a good deed and Kurt knew that. He swallowed his complete disbelief and simply said, "Can we play that again? Let's give it a shot."

They didn't get to just give it a shot. Santana put them in a booth and made them sing it 47 times before saying, "I think that'll do. Ryk—play it back."

They listened and Santana nodded, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a hit."

Kurt and Mercedes knew it was good—really, really good, and could scarcely believe what they were hearing, much less doing.

"Right. So clear your schedules and we'll get Q and Britts and Mike in."

Kurt and Mercedes continually had to work to wrap their minds around this. These were people they'd known nearly their entire lives but their fame had created a feeling of otherworldliness about them. They were them but they weren't them. They seemed even bigger than they had in high school and much more distant. Even in the same room. They both pretty much understood that was all on their side because their friends weren't acting any differently with them—except actually a lot nicer. That gigantic stars like Santana and Quinn and Tony-award Brittany and Mike would work with them and for them felt surreal.

"And by the fuck the way? Rachel's the one who's hammered me and Ryk night and day for years to create this project for you guys. She could have wanted a spot in it but she wanted you guys to have it all—as long as Tina got in. So no dice on a sing-off with Ms. Tony, Emmy, Grammy."

She smiled, "Your loss, bitches. Her voice blends better with each of yours than you do with each other. Whatever—like I said—we can do it. I'm doing this because I love you and you're family. But this very gracious fucking gift—is from Rachel to you. Got that?"

They both nodded.

Santana reached into her bag, pulled out something and held it to her chest. "This is not for the public yet, got it?"

Kurt and Mercedes nodded. They had direct knowledge of three of the hottest stars going. They were always first and exclusive and they appreciated that. They'd never, ever leaked information about their friends.

She slapped a sonogram picture on the keyboard. "Check it. We're having triplets."

"Girl? No—_what_?"

"We're pregnant—triplets."

Kurt's mouth dropped open and Mercedes said, "Wha wha?"

She looked Santana over and said, "Not you. Who?"

"Britts is carrying them."

"What the hell? How? Gimme the dirt. Baby daddy?"

"Puck."

Mercedes lifted a hand. "Oh _Jesus_! What'd that boy do now?"

"_Please._ You'd be at a funeral and I'd be in the pen if this got done the fun way. IVF. I'll spill to you guys but this is entirely private, got it?"

They nodded.

"It's my eggs and Puck's whatever. And I may as well say it's Rachel's eggs, too, because I know her fucking eggs have to be as bossy as she is so if one of those kids or, hell, all of them, isn't hers, I'll eat that monitor board. So we'll see—and I don't care either way."

Mercedes looked at the sonogram picture, shook her head and whisked her hands together as if she were getting to work. "I can't _wait_ to get my hands on those babies!"

"Right? Me either."

Ryk looked at Kurt and they both smiled for the same reason.

Women.

* * *

Mercedes and Kurt saw the babies two weeks after their birth. They were completely enthralled.

They met the boys first because their parents knew meeting Berry meant something different to anyone who knew Rachel.

Mercedes was delighted as she petted over them. She looked from little Noah to Puck and said, "This boy is you all over, boy. _Damn_. He's fierce! And baby Quinn? That's you, Santana. That's the best looking baby boy I've ever seen in my life."

Kurt laughed and said as baby Quinn tugged on his finger, "Absolutely! They're both delicious!"

Santana brought Berry in and said, "For our piece de resistance, we present Berry Pierce Lopez."

The second Kurt set eyes on the tiny girl wearing an argyle onesie, he clapped a hand over his mouth and tears welled in his eyes.

Mercedes took one look and said, "Gimme that damn baby."

The baby looked at her—glared at her really—as she took her into her arms. Mercedes laughed as she looked at her and then touched her little big nose and burst into tears.

She stared at the baby as she cried and then looked at Rachel and said, "I'm not _believing_ God's so good He'd give us something this beautiful twice."

Rachel felt the room swim as Quinn wrapped her arms around her.

Samantha watched them. They'd all been through so much together and there were currents and crosscurrents between them she knew she'd never understand. What she did understand was they were all acting Rainbow Brite capital-G Gay and weren't getting to the point.

"Kurt and Mercedes. What the parents of these children may take eighteen years to ask if I don't step in is they want to know if you'll be the kids' godparents."

Mercedes did a double take. "You mean—as in seriously?"

Quinn said, "Of course. Who else? Finn and Lauren?"

Kurt was more touched than he felt he could express so he simply stood up and said, "I know I can speak for Mercedes when I say that it would be an honor and a privilege. And most importantly of all does that mean I get to dress them?"

"NO!" Everyone answered.

"You suck the joy from my life. Give me that baby, Mercedes."

Kurt looked her over and smiled as he held her and moved in place to rock her. He was a complete natural with babies. "Argyle already?"

"Traditions must be maintained," Quinn said.

"Got it." He looked into the baby's eyes and said, "She's strangely intense for an infant."

Rachel nodded as she crossed to him, "I completely understand. She needs to get things done and she can't do them yet! She can't even talk! It's very consternating to her."

She was holding baby Quinn. "It's tremendously interesting to me to watch how different they are. Quinn is very sensitive to everything sensory but Noah is very relaxed. Quinn sleeps fitfully just like his namesake; Noah sleeps on a very regular schedule and Berry sleeps like she's been given horse tranquilizers. We have to force her awake to feed her. She deeply resents it."

Puck offered, "They're actually sorta more like pony tranqs."

"Noah!" Rachel stamped her foot.

**27 Years Old**

* * *

**From a Dance Magazine Interview with Brittany Pierce-Lopez**

_Dance Magazine: Who are your favorite dancers?_

_Brittany Pierce-Lopez:_ Two categories, right, because that's fair. Trained and untrained. Trained dancers?

Irena Sokoll, obviously. She's put so much work in to make what she does look like it does. She can look weightless. Actually, she feels that way in your arms. It's super insane to be so trained that she feels like nothing because even if you lift her, you're only supporting her through movement she makes easy for you. I guess it's sort of almost like aikido—if you know what she's doing and go with her—it's nothing but intention and direction and air.

Total flow. Every body has weight and gravity exists so to make dance look and feel like those things aren't true takes so much and it's just awesome for me to be able to be around it and to work with it. She taught me to understand dance as a discipline and an art. And even when I started with her when I was five, she never talked down to me or expected less from me because I was a kid or whatever. She's one of the loves of my life and I can't say anything enough to really tell you how I feel about her or her dancing.

Mike Chang. He's just the best. The _best. _He'll do anything and can do anything. He's super technical but he puts so much feeling and heart into it. I'm so totally proud he choreographs with me. I know I can trust him and he knows he can trust me and that opens so many doors for us. We've been dancing together for twenty-two years and he's never dropped me. Obvs you guys are dancers so you know how crazy it is that that's true. If I try something that's probably a little insane—I know he'll catch me. I mean, we might both end up on the floor but he'll catch me and I promise I'll end up on top of him. He's never let me hit the floor first since we were five.

We mess up together sometimes but that's sort of a thing we have. We can mess up together but not apart. I don't fail him—he's never failed me. What people don't get about us is that we're solid friends but we've never really hung out at all after work. And that goes all the way back. We've always been…I guess the word is colleagues…and to know that someone I respect so much as an artist is just completely there for me is like the best thing I can imagine. Knowing I get to dance with him and make things up with him for a living is sort of crazy to me because it's what I'd want to do on a day off. I'd want to dance with Mike.

Untrained dancers. No question. Santana Lopez. And not because she's my wife. She's just a natural dancer. Like when she freestyles away from a line, it's totally awesome to watch.

Let's say she has eight bars. Anyone watching with any sense of musicality or dance, _knows_ she has to be back at one spot on one specific beat. San just moves like that doesn't matter and you're watching and thinking—you gotta get back to your mark and she's just 'talk to the hand' about that for so long you get a little 'uh oh'—but then she's just like—'oh yeah—my mark?'

POP! It's like watching a match burning down between your fingers. Mike and I can slow glide into a spot because we're trained but I totally know it looks like we mean to. San is just completely casual because she's so good and you can _not_ train that. She makes it look like oh wait—hold up—isn't it super weird I'm showing up exactly where I should be right about NOW! BAM! Right on the beat, right on the spot. I'd rather watch San dance than anyone. Even to an untrained eye, in dance she creates ginormous visual tension between her movement and the music and always resolves it perfectly."

(Sudden raucous laughter) "Oh wow. This is totally almost sounding like I know what I'm talking about. Mark that down in your calendar! Quick! Ask me something stupid!"**  
**

* * *

**Ellen Show**

"Okay, we've had S Lopez, Rachel Berry and Brittany Pierce-Lopez on the show but never our next guest. Quinn Fabray!"

The audience rose and didn't just applaud—they cheered. Quinn appeared wearing a flowing green dress and waved at the audience. She hugged Ellen and they took their seats.

"Hi Quinn!"

"Hi, Ellen. Nice to be here."

"Long time…no…could…get…you on the show."

The audience and Quinn laughed, "Yes. And I'd like to blame scheduling stuff but it's pretty obvious at this point I don't do anything in the media I'm not contractually obligated to do."

"So you're here because?"

"You're nice to my family and I like you and your people called again and I thought why not. The best thing for me is I have nothing I'm selling. I'm just here."

"Well, we're _glad_ you're here. The big news in your world is that you guys have triplets now, right?"

"We _do_—two boys and a girl and they're six months old."

A picture flashed behind them of the babies with their parents and the audience made a collective awww sound.

Quinn looked at the image. "Okay—you know the four of us—the man is the father, Noah Puckerman, and the other woman is not the nanny as some idiot news sources have reported. That's Samantha, Puck's wife and our kids' step-mom. The babies are from left to right, our sons Quinn and Noah, and our daughter Berry."

"They're adorable. How does it feel to have a son named after you?"

"Brittany named him and Quinn's really a boy's name, after all, so it's an honor. Plus, I don't think it's a stretch to say he can't possibly fail to be a better man than I am."

Quinn was so deadpan that Ellen laughed. "How is it having triplets? That must be a lot of work."

"It's brutal. I never sleep and these days I'm constantly eating pureed peas or carrots or whatever to show the babies they really taste good when they don't really taste good. It's a living hell, actually, mitigated solely by its inhabitation of impossibly cute tiny people. That includes Rachel."

Quinn looked completely serious, which made Ellen smile. She knew how to time a moment if someone was a good actor with her. Quinn was and the look on her face made Ellen obviously stifle a laugh and that made the audience laugh. "Okay. You mentioned a nanny. Do you guys have one?"

"Of course not. How Hollywood would that be? There are four of us and with our children's father and his wife six of us. If six people can't manage three babies, something's wrong with us and call CPS. But we need to move off of the topic of motherhood, if you don't mind."

Ellen nodded, "Sure. What would you like to talk about?"

They paused and looked at each other.

"How about how you tried to scare me backstage?"

Ellen looked down and shifted in her chair and, because the audience knew and loved her, they knew that must mean something funny and they laughed.

"I'm sure you have the footage, Ellen. You'd play it if you'd gotten me like you got Taylor Swift back in the day, wouldn't you?"

Quinn looked so completely like the cat who ate the canary that Ellen said, "You're scarier than Santana."

Quinn smiled beatifically, "Everyone knows that."

"Funny you should mention Taylor, Quinn. Most of you know who watch the show know that Santana Lopez alerted my staff about the scare thing before her first visit. She told me when she got here she would have punched me if I'd tried to scare her and that if I scared Brittany, people would have to and I quote call the po po on her."

The audience chortled.

"What you don't know is that after that show she pulled me aside and said, 'If Rachel Berry comes on this show, you can scare her only if she's in a chair. She's an easy mark but you can't do that bleep if she could fall like you did with Taylor Swift.'"

She looked into the camera and said. "S Lopez did not use the word bleep."

The audience laughed and clapped.

"She said 'If you scare Rachel in any way that makes her fall or hurt herself, we'll have words. And by words that's not exactly what I mean if you get me.'"

She looked into the camera again and her expression made the audience explode into laughter.

"I was a obviously a little…maybe…slightly terrified but she did wink and smile when she said it."

Quinn grinned at Ellen, "I love Santana Lopez with the heat of ten thousand suns. Seriously, though, we're just all extremely protective of Rachel."

"Oh, we know that from that youtube video."

Quinn winced. "Really? You want to go there?"

Ellen sobered immediately. "We don't have to."

Quinn waved a hand, "No. It's okay. It was what you saw. Paparazzi swarm. They got way too close and we were just trying to make our way through when one of them hit Rach in the head with his camera. I _know _it was an accident caused by his recklessness but accident or not, he did it. So—I'm sure most of you probably saw it because it was insanely overplayed in the media—he hit her and in two seconds Brittany put him on the ground. She didn't hit him after she put him there. She just abruptly ended a threat to Rachel. Rach agreed not to press charges against him after his failed attempt to press charges against Brittany."

She looked at the audience. "How could he think that would work? It was right there on video—he committed battery against Rach and Britts defended her. The photographer was the one who tried to make it some sort of legal thing. Rachel had a bump on her head but she was fine. He probably suffered a sore butt but he and his precious camera were fine. His ego was the only really injured party because he'd been served by a woman and the video of it went viral. And, just by the way Ellen, I do know we're talking about this to avoid showing the footage of my big scare."

Ellen smiled, "Oh gosh, you noticed." She took a deep breath, "Okay—let's watch me scaring Quinn. Roll it."

_The audience watched footage caught by hidden camera as a staff member escorted Quinn into the large green-room. The staff member pointed to a covered rolling clothes rack, "You can hang your bag and coat in there if you'd like, Ms. Fabray." _

"_Please call me Quinn and thank you. I'm sorry, I was ushered in so quickly I didn't catch your name."_

"_Joey."_

_She offered her hand, shook his and smiled, "Hi, Joey. Nice to meet you."_

"_You, too."_

_Quinn crossed the room, opened the cloth drape covering the rack and Ellen jumped out at her and grabbed her. "Boo!" _

_Quinn didn't react at all except to say, "Hi, Ellen. I'm Quinn. Nice to meet you, too. Could you hand me a hanger, please?"_

The audience roared with laughter.

_Ellen instantly deflated and sheepishly handed over a hanger from inside the clothes rack. As Quinn was calmly arranging her coat on the hanger, she suddenly jumped violently toward Ellen and shouted "BOO!" Ellen was so startled she leapt backwards and fell, knocking the clothes rack over with her inside it. _

_As it toppled to the ground, Quinn said, "Oh my God! Ellen!"_

_Ellen was completely enclosed in the rack on the ground but they could hear her laughter from within the shroud of cloth tenting._

"_Help me, Joey!" Quinn peeled the fabric layers back with his help and when Ellen sat up, still laughing, Quinn knelt down and ran a hand over her head and back, looking at her with true concern, "I'm so, _so_sorry. Are you okay, sweetie? Did you hurt yourself?"_

Ellen shook her head and wiped her eyes. "No. Not at all." She looked into the hidden camera and deadpanned. "Note to self. Scare any of the women in this household and you end up on the ground."

The audience was laughing and clapping as they finished watching. When Ellen and Quinn turned from the screen to each other, Ellen asked, "You know, it doesn't seem fair. Santana warned me about herself and Brittany and Rachel. Couldn't she have called to warn me about _you_?"

Quinn nodded, "She probably just wanted to see if you'd try it. No one who's known me for more than about thirty minutes would ever do that to me. I mean, even San wouldn't try something like that with me and she's known me twenty-one years."

"Why is that?"

Quinn snorted, "You _saw _why, Ellen." She held up a hand, "Okay, to be fair, with San she'd know there'd be no point. I'm intensely hyper-vigilant and have no startle response except to actual physical pain. When you jumped out at me—I really _was _as surprised as I can be, which isn't much at all. I can think of two times I've actually been startled and both were with Rachel. When she's with me, I'm not myself. Thank God. As for why other people who know me wouldn't do that? Well…"

She smiled sweetly, "If you do something to me, I'll always do it right back but harder. San's scary because she's protective of her family. I'm just a bitch. But I _am_ sorry you fell down—are you sure you're okay?"

"I am. Of course I'll be sulking in a bar with Brittany's photographer friend tonight but I'm fine."

"Well then, I'm sure I'll be a regular guest from now on, right?"

Ellen smiled warmly at her, leaned forward and patted her hand, "You're welcome anytime. Quinn Fabray, everybody!"

The audience clapped and watched as they leaned toward each other. Ellen whispered something to Quinn that made her laugh. They stood and Quinn hugged her and kissed her on the cheek.

* * *

**One day later**

**TMZ Video Blog Post**

Quinn Fabray has six-month-old triplets and a wife in New York but she has time to hang out (hyperlink to video) and all over Zac Sargent in LA.

_[The video is of Zac walking down an LA street with his arm around Quinn's shoulder and her arm around his waist.]_

Twitter four hours after the TMZ posting:

**ZSargent: RachelBarbraBerry** Oooh. TMZ. Canoodling! Burn Rach #caughtmeaQuinn

**RachelBarbraBerry: ZSargent** Ha! Ring on her left hand, boy-o. Mine all mine. #GOTmeaQuinn

**ZSargent: RachelBarbraBerry** Busted. She won't stop talking about you and the babies. Help me please!

**RachelBarbraBerry: ZSargent** Come see them, Zac! Right this minute!

**ZSargent: RachelBarbraBerry** Ha! 30 min ago, changed my ticket so I can fly back with Q for an inspection tour

**RachelBarbraBerry: ZSargent** ! OMG! I'm so excited! Tell Quinn I hate she doesn't use Twitter!

**ZSargent: RachelBarbraBerry** She's here, says she knows and never. You're her wife and have her cell number

**RachelBarbraBerry: ZSargent **I can't wait! I'm feeding both of you seitan for that TMZ thing. Quinn will know what that means

**ZSargent: RachelBarbraBerry **Q said type this hashtag #revengeofthevegan

**ZSargent: RachelBarbraBerry **And says we suck at Twitter because we can't even RT because we type too much

**RachelBarbraBerry: ZSargent **Grrrr. Tell her—never mind—I'll call her. #idonottypetoomuch

**ReginaMiller** ** RachelBarbraBerry **Teddy says tell Zac don't make him come out there

One minute elapsed.

**ZSargent: RachelBarbraBerry **!Q told me who Teddy is! You called the police on me?

**RachelBarbraBerry: Zsargent** Ha x 100! I love you ReginaMiller and Officer Miller! #racheldontplay

**ZSargent: ReginaMiller **Please tell Teddy to stand down. Please. Ma'am.

**ReginaMiller Zsargent **I'll try. He just holstered his service weapon but I'll see what I can do :)

**RachelBarbraBerry: ZSargent** I love you Zachary! Can't wait to see you!

**ZSargent: RachelBarbraBerry **Yipes! Back atcha, cutie—see ya soon #shecalledthepoliceonme

* * *

Regina Miller might have been an older woman but she was a woman. When, after this quick exchange, Zac Sargent—THE Zac Sargent followed her on Twitter and as time went by actually continued to avidly tweet with her—sent pictures and messages out into the world addressed to her, it was always breathtaking. Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez tweeted her. Breathtaking.

When she finally met Zac, he sat down on the couch next to her and talked with her for an hour. An hour invaded by Rachel and Quinn and Santana and Brittany. She knew at any age and now especially her advanced one it should be a little embarrassing to be, at heart, a fan.

She'd always been star-struck—all her life. But to have her stars, these people she so looked up to, sit next to her as if she were real to them—and she could feel they saw a friend and not a fan, was a completely unexpected blessing. God had been so kind. She'd obviously chosen her stars well.

* * *

**Three Months Later**

**Ellen Show**

Ellen turned to her audience, then to the camera with a very serious face. "As you all know, I live my life in mortal fear of Santana Lopez."

The audience laughed and Ellen smiled.

"Seriously, Santana's in town for the next two weeks doing twelve sold-out shows at the Hollywood Bowl. I know she's in the same city as I am—even now."

She looked into the camera. "Do I worry? Me? No. I laugh." She brayed a false laugh and stared into the camera. "I fear _nothing_."

The audience laughed and then she did. She smiled and said, "The duo opening for her are people a lot of you know from their gossip blog, live red-carpet appearances and their enormous youtube hit, Nobody Can Say. They're releasing their debut CD next week but they let me listen to an advance copy and it's fantastic. Mercedes Jones and Kurt Hummel—Chocolate Milk!"

They walked out, waved and danced before hugging Ellen and taking their seats.

"Hi you two."

"Hi, Ellen."

"I'm huge fans of you guys!

Mercedes, who'd met a lot of stars, was still star-struck by this one and only managed, "No way."

Kurt blushed even as he said, "We're bigger fans of yours and for longer so we win—we're thrilled to be here."

Ellen grinned at him. "I'll get to the music in a minute. What I really appreciate about you two is that you're really different from most gossip people. You're a little—okay—maybe a lot snarky about fashion. But you're never mean about what really matters even in your blog."

Mercedes had regained her equilibrium. "Ellen, it's like this. When we were in high school, we were the school gossips and we weren't always nice. But we grew up a lot—a lot a lot. As far as Hollywood is concerned? This is show _business_—a business where people come to the red carpet to look flawless—or as flawless as they can. And, no lie, if someone just can't pull it off because it ain't happenin' and maybe all the money in the world couldn't make it happen? We know that. We keep it real and we don't care. As long as a woman loves herself and _loves other people_, she's beautiful to me and I know my boy feels the same way. So if they stop and talk and just walk on by we won't ever hate on them. It's the flawless women wearing crazy stuff we have something to say about."

Ellen smiled and nodded.

Kurt smiled at his partner in crime, "Mercedes speaks the truth. We also like having fun talking about PR stuff, romances or showmances and trading other gossipy items like that but if we ever feel we could be hitting close to the bone with anyone, we back off. Every time."

He smiled at the audience. "Mercedes and I got a taste of the limelight at the same time five of our friends became hugely famous. We've known them since we were six. We're in a position to know that famous people are human beings, too. Everyone should remember that."

Ellen nodded, "Thank you for that, Kurt. Speaking of flawless people, are you talking about someone like Quinn?"

Kurt raised a hand. "Oh no. Don't say that."

Mercedes nodded vigorously. "Do _not_. Please. Not about her. No."

"Oh!" Ellen smiled, "_Oh_." She leaned forward and faux-whispered, "You're scared of her, too?"

Mercedes' eyes widened and Kurt hastened to say, "What Mercedes isn't going to say but I will is that Quinn intensely dislikes attention being paid to her physical appearance. That's why we never say flawless around her although she truly invariably is. I've seen her at improbable hours in the morning with no make-up, her hair all wrecked from sleeping in a t-shirt and sweats and she's actually prettier that way than on the red carpet. Remember I'm gay as I say this. But let's move on. Quinn is going to kill me now. A promising life and career—kablam!"

Ellen smiled very sweetly at him. "Okay! So your new CD is amazing!"

"Thank you. We're so excited and it's technically not out until Monday," Kurt said, "but your audience members are all getting advance copies."

The audience cheered and clapped.

"It's a little shocking—because I thought of you as really funny gossip people and it turns out you're really talented singers. How'd that happen?"

Mercedes lifted a hand, "Oh, gurrrl. It was like this, okay?"

Ellen obviously almost laughed but chose to smile. "Okay."

"In high school, we were all up in this Glee club with, among other folks, Rachel and Quinn and Santana and Brittany and Mike and Tina, who's on our CD, too, okay?

"Right."

"And every single day, we had diva combat for solos because—if you see us—you're feeling us—we like our limelight."

"Okay."

"And who won? Every damned time?"

Kurt answered quietly, "The person who deserved to, Mercedes. Rachel."

"I hated her every day for that!"

The audience laughed.

"She won't mind me saying that. She knows—Ms. Tony-Emmy-Grammy ain't hatin'."

Kurt bumped Mercedes' shoulder with his, "We've always wanted to sing and be famous for that but we had this other career so we thought we were okay with trading one dream for another. Rachel thought otherwise. She persuaded Santana and Ryk to write songs for us and if you've never been persuaded by Rachel Berry, you haven't lived. Persuasion isn't quite the word. It's like a power drill applied to your skull. You will do as she says or you won't be able to breathe, eat or sleep with a second's peace. So she did and Santana and Ryk hijacked us and said sing these damned songs now and naturally we were thrilled."

"Wow. That's really…sweet. Nice to have friends, huh?"

"It's fantastic and speaking of friends, Ellen, Mercedes and I and your staff have a surprise for you."

Ellen paused then said…"Okay."

Santana, Quinn, Brittany and Rachel walked out from backstage. They were all in jeans and casual blouses. The audience exploded in applause.

Ellen looked at them and turned to her audience, "It's been nice to know you."

The audience laughed and clapped.

They all waved at the audience and Santana stepped forward, hugged Ellen and handed her a package. "That's 1200 tickets, kiddo. 100 a night for my show. Raffle them or throw them in the air or whatever."

Ellen beamed because that was largesse she hadn't expected. "Okay—a raffle tomorrow for one hundred tomorrow, people!"

The audience groaned.

"Or today?"

They cheered.

"Wow. It's pretty rare for me to have six guests at once."

Kurt said, "Actually, Mercedes and I have a surprise for these four and for you Ellen. We worked with your staff to pull it off."

"O..kay."

"We know you're sort of frightened of Santana and Quinn and for good reason but we thought you might like to see them in context. We also know you like games so Brittany and Rachel—will you play a game and let us watch?"

Rachel looked from Kurt to Mercedes, "Why do I know this game will be particularly undignified?"

"Please?"

Brittany shrugged, "Sure—c'mon, Rach. If we get to do it together, it'll be fun no matter what."

"That's what she said."

"Shut it lefty."

"Sorry cap."

Ellen could roll with the flow, "Okay—after the break we'll have a game I know nothing about."

After the break, a long bench had been set out before the side stage. Ellen, Quinn, Santana, Kurt and Mercedes were sitting on it. When the curtain was drawn, Brittany and Rachel were standing side by side in huge padded Sumo wrestler costumes.

The audience immediately howled with laughter. Santana took one look and threw herself on her back on the floor and shrieked with laughter. Looked at Rachel again and pounded her feet on the floor. "Oh my GOD!"

Quinn was doing only a little better. She was forcing herself not to laugh but when Ellen looked at her trying, she face-palmed and laughed so hard she began to cry.

Kurt and Mercedes laughed so hard they both thought they might hurt themselves or do something anatomically embarrassing.

Rachel announced, "This is not helping!" She stamped her foot in consternation.

Hearing that, Quinn stood, leaned over and rather unceremoniously grabbed Santana by the waistband of her jeans, lifted her up off the floor and placed her back on the bench.

Ellen stopped laughing. "Okay. Wow. You're really strong, Quinn."

"Of course I am. I'm a cheerleader." She glared at her three friends, "Cut it out now or we won't get to watch them wrestle."

Santana, Mercedes and Kurt so immediately composed themselves that the audience did as well.

Quinn half-skipped over to Brittany and Rachel. She ran a hand through Brittany's hair, "You okay in there, Britts?"

Brittany tried to shrug. "Sure but it's super restrictive. It's like if you fell asleep in a fold-out bed and someone didn't know and folded you back in the couch and sat on you."

The audience laughed.

"It'll only be a few minutes, sweetheart."

"Take off these fake hands, Q—and Rach's. I have to have hands to do this."

Quinn took the fake mitts off of Brittany and turned to Rachel and almost laughed again. The audience could see this and laughed for her. Rachel stamped her foot.

"You look very menacing in this costume, Rach."

"You're making fun of me!"

"A little." She took the fake hands off and took the clip out of her fairly short hair and clipped Rachel's hair back, which had the immediate effect of soothing the woman. "There, sweetie. Verisimilitude."

Rachel smiled up at Quinn and said in a conspiratorial tone, "Actually, having been petite all my life, it feels strangely interesting to be so large. I feel…_titanic_."

The audience laughed but Quinn said very seriously, "And that's just another reason I fall in love with you every single day."

Quinn kissed her on the forehead and said, "Game on!"

Rachel stamped her foot. "That was eleven years ago!"

"Best night of my life. Get going, guys."

Brittany wasn't exactly happy. At all. "Rach—this'll be super hard because Sumo guys bash into each other and that's the point. But you _can't_ knock me over and I _won't_ knock you over. Kurt and Mercedes suck for doing this to us."

She shot them a truly poisonous look that actually sort of frightened them before saying, "I can deal. Let's get this going."

She waddled over and made sure she could grip Rachel's costume, "Cool. You can sort of run at me and I'll make it look like you bashed me super hard, okay?"

"I don't know if I can run, Brittany."

"Okay—can you sort of…_lumber_ toward me?"

Rachel beamed up at her. "I'm so in love with you right now for that word. Will do, captain!"

Rachel stepped back and did her best but it was, indeed, a lumber. When she made contact with Brittany, the taller woman grabbed her and dragged her a few feet backwards as if the collision had caused it.

Rachel was utterly delighted. "Ha! Let's do it again!"

The audience laughed uproariously.

Rachel took ten paces back and then waddled quickly forward, screaming, "Ayee!"

Brittany pulled her much farther back this time. "Rach! You're a killer!"

Santana, Quinn, Mercedes and Kurt were weeping with laughter. Ellen had just decided to sit on the floor. She was trying to stifle her laughter and failing. The two protagonists in the drama didn't seem to notice anyone except each other any more.

"Fairness dictates reciprocity. You get to hit back."

Brittany nodded even as she furrowed her brow. "Okay—I'll do it but just get ready to go backward, okay? I'll take care of it."

"Okay."

Brittany waddled a lot faster than Rachel had, wholesale picked the woman up, moved her back five steps and placed her on the ground.

"You're a tremendously formidable opponent Brittany! Do it again! You should shriek to frighten me!"

The audience were beside themselves and Santana dropped to the ground with Ellen.

Brittany lumbered toward Rachel and screamed, "Dowwwwwwn you dog!" She lifted her again and placed her eight steps back.

The audience howled when Rachel said, "Excellent! That was extremely impressive!"

Brittany was actually much more mindful of where she was than Rachel. "Rach—we have to finish the game. Sumo guys knock each other out of the ring but how about this—run at me and we'll do it old school. I'll grab you and you'll knock me down and you'll be on top and you'll win, okay? Just tuck your arms in and tuck your head in and we'll do it. You won't get hurt—promise."

"Will it hurt you?"

"You could run me over in a truck in this costume. No. Let's go."

Rachel took a few steps back—rushed as best she could and Brittany toppled over taking Rachel with her. A Rachel whose muffled voice could scarcely be heard.

Brittany bench pressed Rachel into the air and said, "Raise your arm and say you win."

Rachel lifted an arm, "I win!"

The audience roared.

Brittany gently rolled Rachel to the ground beside her, tried to get up and then said, "San? Quinn? Not happening."

They raced to her aid and the audience, still laughing, was astonished that they didn't assist her in rising. They just picked her up together and set her upright.

Santana reached down and grabbed Rachel like she were only a paper bag and put her on her feet. "You okay, hobbs? You look a little flushed."

"I may feel a slight bit overheated with the anxiety of combat and the joy of victory."

"You got clothes on under there?"

"Of course I do! Who knows who wore this costume last?"

"A seven year old boy probs. Cap—help me—our girl needs outta there."

Quinn held the costume as Santana unzipped and extracted Rachel from it.

"There you go." She ruffled Rachel's blouse a little to give her some air, "You okay, LD?"

Quinn wiped Rachel's brow and smiled at her. "Angel?"

"I'm fine, you guys. I Sumo wrestled and I won!"

Santana said, "Right? You were totally badass."

Quinn nodded, "Totally."

Ellen glanced at Kurt and Mercedes who were looking at the scene with tremendous fondness—then to Brittany who looked at her and pointed her index fingers at Santana and Quinn.

Ellen got it. What Kurt had said. To know who these two scary people were, you had to see them in context and their context was each other.

She stood, "Okay—that was the strangely funniest thing I've ever seen on this show. Give it up for Kurt, Mercedes, Brittany, my most feared guests Santana and Quinn and our victorious Sumo champion Rachel Berry! Raffle for tickets after the break!"

* * *

**A/N: I am very familiar with AA so don't think I don't understand Quinn's involvement in it. Some groups WILL embrace an interloper who shows up in open meetings, shuts up and does respectful time listening to their message. **


	72. Chapter 72

**A/N: Previous disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Except for the part that it was going to be short and wasn't massively AU. Oops. **

**Three songs in this. Two all of you know. The one SOME of you might not know is SWV's Right Here/Human Nature. If you don't know it, you should. Listen to it to get the flavor. FF won't let me do the real link. Go to . Type forward slash, then**

**watch?v=NOKd_et0A4o&feature=relatedwatch?v=NOKd_et0A4o&feature=related**

**Even if you don't want a context for the song, you have to watch that effin' video. Watch it for me. Please. The song is killer but the video is not to be believed. If you boiled something called WTF for hours and hours and reduced it into incredibly powerfully concentrated WTF bouillon—yeah. It would be that video. This is my gift to you, people!**

**This will be, again, _wildly_ moving back and forth through time. I'll keep it as simple as I can. This is a VERY KURTCEDES chapter. And yes, this chapter got so damned long that, again, it'll be two more after this. What are you people doing to me? I just decided Kurt and Mercedes meant something to me as characters, as do Burt and Carole. So let's go.**

**Quick reminder. Remember that Mercedes and Matt bungee jumped together and that Kurt and David Karofsky went to lunch together on the same day when they were kids. And that there was a lightning reference to the fact that Mercedes and Matt were dating and that Kurt and David were dating when they were 22 years old.**

* * *

**Hollywood Bowl 14 Days Later (after the Ellen Show with the Sumo) 27 Years Old Last Night of the 12-Night Run**

* * *

One hundred minutes into the concert, the audience was cheering and Santana waved at them and made a cut motion with her hand. "Okay, people. Simmer down. You know this is being filmed for a DVD so I'm being all extra pretty but that also means I'm bringing me some guesties on. How about somebody like my girl Rachel Berry?"

The audience erupted as Rachel ran out to join Santana. She was wearing a headset mic like Santana's and they watched as a crewmember adjusted one on Brittany.

"Or the only woman anyone who has a mind or eyes really wants to see? Quinn Fabray!"

The audience exploded as Quinn waved and smiled as she strode onto the stage wearing her headset.

"Me and Britts and my girls are gonna do an old school song for you. I betcha you didn't know two of these girls can sing. Listen up."

The music started and the sample of Michael Jackson's Human Nature SWV Be Right Here electrified the audience.

Brittany astonished them by gliding out and singing. Brittany could sing!

_Lately there seems to be  
Some insecurity  
About the way I feel  
Where I wanna be  
Girl ya know it's with you  
No one can do  
The things you do to me_

She returned to their line on a dime and Santana swagged out.

_Never to be mistaken  
Long as it's love we're making  
There's gonna be some rain  
Gonna be some pain  
But as long as I know  
Girl time will show  
Our love will grow  
And I know_

She went so far out that Brittany almost laughed and watched as her girl just casually sauntered back and…

_Love will be right here_ (POP—right on the snare—on the one—perfect). Joining them all in:

_Be right here  
Right here  
Be right here  
No fear  
Have no fear  
No tears  
Love is here_

The audience erupted when Quinn sang—who knew she could? Or dance—but she twirled off the line and strutted out…

_True love some don't believe in  
That's just what I'm givin'  
I'm gonna keep it strong  
I'll be holding on to you  
No one can do me like you do  
It's true_

And returned on the beat on the line next to Rachel, who waved at the crowd but didn't move. She turned to Quinn, took her hand and just sang to her, cutting her voice by half its strength to blend with her friends. Quinn was completely charmed and looked it.

_Sure as the sun is shining  
Our love will keep on climbing  
There's gonna be some rain  
Gonna be some pain  
But as long as I know  
Girl time will show  
Our love will grow  
And I know_

They all sang:

_Love will be right here  
Be right here  
Right here right here  
Be right here  
Be right here_

_No fear  
No fear  
Have no fear  
No tears  
Love is here_

For the bars of the bridge they all ran forward and clapped and pumped their fists at a crowd going wild. Ryk had sampled in his voice and a huge screen behind them flashed his vocal: _S-R-Q-B—SS R Q Double B—SS R Q Double B! _ At the end of the bridge Brittany, Rachel and Quinn lock-stepped into choreography and provided back-up for the star of the evening. Santana.

_Love will be right here  
Be right here  
Right here right here  
Be right here  
Be right here  
No fear  
No fear  
Have no fear  
No tears  
Love is here  
_  
Santana took her place in the line and they all took each others' hands._  
_  
_Love's gonna be right here  
Right here  
Be right here  
Right here right here  
No fear  
Have no fear  
No tears  
Love's gonna be right here_

As the song ended, the audience cheered wildly and, immediately, the band started the very, very familiar intro to the song _Valerie, _which made the crowd cheer even more exuberantly.

Santana didn't hit it after four bars. She shouted, "Give it up for our Valerie—Valerie Constanza!"

The audience erupted again as a vibrantly healthy and more popular than ever Valerie Constanza ran out with her headset mic on, waved, and joined the line with Rachel, Quinn, Brittany, Mike and their corps dancers and Santana hit it on eight as they danced behind and beside her.

_Well, sometimes I go out by myself  
And I look across the water  
And I think of all the things, what you're doing  
And in my head I paint a picture_

_'Cause since I've come on home  
Well, my body's been a mess  
And I've missed your ginger hair  
And the way you like to dress_

_Won't you come on over  
Stop makin' a fool out of me  
Why don't you come on over Valerie?  
Valerie, Valerie, Valerie_

They danced through their choreography for the chorus and Valerie stepped out and sang—stunningly well, fully laughing at herself, having changed the lyrics without telling Santana:

_Didn't have to go to jail  
Or put my house on up for sale  
Yeah I got a good lawyer-er-er-er!_

_Didn't have to catch a tan  
(She pointed at Quinn) And I found the right wo-man  
Who'd fix it for (pointed at herself) her! _

She swagged downstage…

_And I'm shopping everywhere!  
Changed the color of my hair  
Am I busy? _

And back to Santana…

_Yeah I had to pay that fine (she fanned herself)  
I was dodging all the time  
But I'm still busy!_

Santana laughed the whole time and then faux-kicked her back to the line and sang and half-laughed as Mike and Brittany did their pyrotechnics.

_Since I've come on home  
Well, my body's been a mess  
And I've missed your messed up hair  
And the way you like to dress_

_Won't you come on over  
Stop makin' a fool out of me  
Why don't you come on over Valerie?  
Valerie, Valerie, Valerie_

The audience was cheering thunderously as they sang and danced the chorus.

Santana put a hand out and brought it back down with her band, very quietly.

_Well, sometimes I go out by myself  
And I look across the water  
And I think of all the things, what you're doing  
And in my head I paint a picture_

'_Cause since I've come on home  
Well, my body's been a mess  
And I've missed your Spanglish hair  
And the way you like to dress_

The band suddenly hit it and Santana did too. Hit it hard.

_Won't you come on over?  
Stop makin' a fool out of me_

_Why don't you come on over Valerie?  
Valerie, Valerie, Valerie_

_Valerie, Valerie, Valerie, Valerie  
Why don't you come on over Valerie?_

The dancing was incredibly fierce and the backup singing was surreal. As the song ended, the applause was deafening. This was so much more than the audience had expected.

"Okay! Give it up for my people! Rachel Berry, Quinn Fabray and an asshat after my own heart, Valerie Constanza! Thanks, guys. And now for the last number of the night, let's bring Kurt and Mercedes back out and and we'll all play a little Catch."

As the band played the first notes of Santana's first huge hit, the audience redoubled their cheering. Mercedes and Kurt ran out and joined the line and choreography and the audience was astonished to see that these people were so good they looked like they'd done this sort of thing together all their lives.

* * *

**16 Years Old**

Kurt perused the pictures taken at the jump site. "I'm completely disbelieving you took Matt Brown bungee jumping. I hold the evidence in my hands but…"

"I told you—it was a vision quest, Kurt."

"Okay, we'll work up to my trying to wrap my mind around a vision quest of bungee jumping in relation to you, Mercedes. But why Matt?"

Mercedes shrugged, "I don't know. I mean, I told him I didn't want to be the only Black person doing it and that was sort of true but for some reason he just seemed like the person to do it with—and he was. He hated me all the way there and bouncing down on that string but he laughed after we did it."

Kurt took a long look at her. "You like him, don't you?"

Mercedes looked at the floor, "I don't know. Maybe. He talks more than you'd think and he's sort of funny and smart and even though I totally bitched him making him do this he threw it back in my face and laughed and I liked that. He's nice. He sort of asked me out on a date."

Kurt smiled, "Really?"

"Yeah."

"You're going, right?"

"I guess. I haven't said yes yet."

"Text him right now and say yes."

**Mercedes Jones: Yes to Friday night!  
Matt Brown: U deserve a zipline vision quest, beeyatch, 4 making me wait 4 an answer. But U get a movie and dinner—whatever U want to see, whatever food  
Mercedes Jones: No. Fair's fair. Your turn  
Matt Brown: Ok. New Korean place on 3rd but U choose movie. I'll watch anything  
Mercedes Jones: I'm a horror film girl  
Matt Brown: Really? Choose anything. Bloodier the better!  
Mercedes Jones: Will look online. CU tomorrow  
Matt Brown: Yes!**

Kurt smiled as he read the interaction. "He's going to be a good boyfriend."

"What boyfriend? It's our first date."

"Any straight boy who'll call _you _a bitch when talking about the particulars of your first date is boyfriend material, Ms. Jones."

"Fine. Speaking of dates, how was yours?"

"It wasn't a date," Kurt said primly. He recounted the story of his lunch with David and Mercedes stared at him for a few moments before saying, "You're telling me that big ol' boy David Karofsky took you to a _peacock _garden?"

"Yes. It was strangely romantic."

"And strangely gay."

"That too."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going to go out with him for real?"

"This Friday—and obviously not to the Korean restaurant on Third and not to a horror movie."

"Yeah—we'd have to work up to double dating, I think."

Kurt nodded and then smiled shyly at the floor. "We can't hang out this Friday night because we both have dates, Mercedes."

Mercedes nodded and felt the same sense of wonder her best friend did but she said, "Hell yeah. The world's finally catching up, Kurt."

* * *

**Friday Night**

Kurt had tried on thirty-seven outfits and settled for understated boy-wear, because he knew what he knew. He didn't hate himself or his taste in fashion but surely just being seen with him on a Friday night in Lima would be enough for David to deal with.

Burt met David at the door. "David."

David was deathly afraid of Burt Hummel. He swallowed, hard. "Mr. Hummel."

Burt's eyes narrowed on him, "My son has a curfew of 11:30. And yeah, he still has that GPS device."

"I know that, sir. I'll have him home before his curfew, sir. Just dinner and a movie."

Kurt bounded up the stairs in designer skinny jeans, and to David's astonishment, largish-stylish white/blue high-top basketball kicks and a simple oversized rough blue fisherman's sweater over a white t-shirt. He looked like a regular sort of skinny albeit pretty guy. David felt his eyes sting because he knew Kurt was trying to tone down the gay and blend for him. He'd bought a green cashmere sweater for the occasion but everything else was the same, even his letterman's jacket.

"Ooh." Kurt reached out and touched David's chest, "Cashmere! The color brings out your eyes."

David was silently a little thrilled, both with the touch and the compliment but was also incredibly anxious because he didn't know if that was too much gay for Burt but the man seemed to take it in stride.

Carole walked in at that moment and smiled at him. "Hello, David. That's a lovely sweater. Kurt, you look almost butch."

"Thank you Carole! As intended."

"You boys have fun. 11:30 or Burt will find you, David Karofsky. And when he's finished with you, I'll start on what's left. And then we'll call Eric Berry to finish anything left over and that would probably fit in a shoe box."

David blinked. "Okay. Wow. Yes, ma'am."

Carole patted David on the shoulder, "I'm sort of kidding but not. Burt and I have a workout tonight parentally. We have to read Finn the riot act tonight, too. In thirty minutes, he's leaving for a date with a Carmel girl Kurt and Blaine set him up with—Jessica somebody. We want you home safely but we also just want you kids reliably out of the house for three hours. That's all we ask."

"Carole!"

"Kurt?"

"Overshare! We're leaving."

* * *

"David? Where are you taking me?"

"I asked Rachel what you might like and she suggested a place."

"Not Mercedes?"

"No disrespect but she'd suggest something obvious. Rachel knows you pretty well, too."

"Okay. Fair enough."

Kurt felt incredibly uncertain when they pulled into the driveway of a private home.

They walked to the door and rang the bell. The door opened.

"Hello. I am John Takahashi and this is my wife Mary. We are honored to have you visit our home."

* * *

Matt perused the menu and said, "I'm ordering the hottest thing this place has."

"You like hot food?"

"I like a challenge. Look. I'm out with you, right?"

Mercedes smiled at her menu. "Don't read the menu. Ask them—they'll tell you."

She ordered a beef dish with noodles.

Matt asked and was told the hottest thing they served was a cold cucumber and noodle salad. He ordered it.

When their dishes arrived, they couldn't help noticing that the server stood at a slight distance and that the chef, if his clothing was any indication, had ventured out to see him try it.

He took a bite, chewed and sweat immediately broke out on his face. Mercedes cackled as he lightly pounded himself on the sides of his head with both hands. He grabbed his glass of water and drank half of it. He mopped his brow with his napkin and waved at the server, "Can I get more water, some milk and some tissue or napkins or something for my nose? I don't want to leave my date."

The young lady smiled and hurried away to bring him his supplies.

Mercedes was laughing heartily at the look on his face when he said, "In all seriousness, 'Cedes, that's the best thing I've ever put in my mouth."

Mercedes stopped laughing, "You look like you just ate a blow torch—you got to be kidding me."

"No—it's really flavorful—it's just hot. You have to try it."

"And now you out your mind."

He looked at her very seriously. "_No_. You _have_ to try it. Vision quest, sistah. I bungee jumped for _you_."

Mercedes narrowed her eyes. Wait-a-second. Was this a set-up? Maybe. Probably. Okay. Even if. She'd made him risk his life—and this was just some sort of whack Korean cucumber thing. So. "Okay—but not too much."

He loaded his fork with what was a fairly small bite and offered it to her.

She nibbled it off the fork tentatively and her first thought was that it was nice and cold and tasted really amazing and then the heat kicked in and her eyes widened into Frisbees as she grabbed her water and downed all of it. Matt laughed until tears rolled down his face.

The server brought back napkins, milk and water. "The milk's for you, 'Cedes."

She downed the milk, which mitigated the worst of the heat. "I hate you, Matt Brown."

"Now we're even, Mercedes Jones. See what your food's like. If it's good—I get a bite."

It was delicious and she fed him a bite. As he took it from her fork, she couldn't believe she'd never noticed what soft brown eyes he had or how cute he was.

Even if it had been a set-up, he ate every bite of his food and cried and mopped his brow and blew his nose the whole way through it and it wasn't all that pretty for a first date but she liked him for it. They laughed and talked through all the sniffling and sweating and crying and it was like being with Kurt in a way. It felt real.

Matt wasn't fronting with her—he was nothing but himself. When he paid the check and put his large gentle hand on the small of her back as he followed her out of the restaurant, she decided she could get used to a straight man who bitched her back and laughed at her and with her. She wanted a boyfriend but maybe friend was the most important part of that word.

* * *

After the most amazing dining experience of Kurt's life, Mary Takahashi said, as they were about to leave, "Kurt, your Rachel called to tell me you are a very great singer."

Kurt shook his head and said something that would have astonished Rachel. "No. I'm very good but not I'm not even remotely her."

"Rachel sang 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' for us when she was here. It is a song that means so much to us. She said if I asked you, you would give us a version we would treasure even more than hers, the memory of which we cherish in our hearts."

David watched as Kurt shook his head, "Rachel said that about me?"

"She did."

Kurt stood with that for a few moments, wiped his eyes and repeated. "_She_ said that about _me_?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll try."

He stepped back, just as Rachel had, took a deep breath and sang. For the Takahashi's, Rachel had been big—Judy Garland big. But Kurt was a young man and his voice was so surprisingly amazing, tender and yearning that they immediately began to cry again, as David did. It was so poignant that it was crushing. It was not Rachel, who knew who she was and owned the song. This was a young man who embodied the lyrics and hoped.

Mary and John bowed to him deeply when he finished and he bowed to them and said as he rose, "I'm afraid Rachel and I are the only show singers we know—don't believe the hype if anyone else who knows us shows up."

"We won't."

The dinner was free. Again.

* * *

David took him to a foreign film, bought him Sno-Caps and popcorn and kissed him very, very gently in the car before walking him to the door. Kurt was inside his house at 11:12.

Burt was standing in the foyer, waiting for him. Carole was asleep. Kurt walked in and looked at his father. He smiled and Burt smiled.

Kurt said softly, because he could scarcely believe it. "I had a date."

"Of course you did. Have fun? Wanna tell me about it?"

"It was amazing! Really? Could we talk? Can we make cocoa?" There—_that_ was the slightly girlish enthusiasm Burt had hoped he'd be met with after Kurt's first date.

He couldn't be Kurt's mom ever in a million years, but he'd hoped for, planned for and accepted trying to fill in. "Sounds like a plan, my man. For the occasion and just this time I'll add a little shot of somethin'. Maybe two shots if it's a two-cocoa story."

"_Really_?"

"Absolutely. A man only has a first date once, right? But don't tell Finn or Carole I slipped you a Mickey, okay? Finn's home and snoring already."

Kurt's face fell, "Oh no. Did his date not go well?"

"No—or yeah. It did. He said it was great. They're going out again next week. But he came home thirty minutes ago and crashed. He's not a romantic like us, Kurt. He doesn't understand a guy wants to talk about stuff after sometimes."

Kurt beamed at his father. Burt pulled Kurt into a tight hug. "Good for you, Kurt. I'm so happy. Good for you, son."

* * *

**17 Years Old**

Santana and Quinn had finally decided to work on _Te Amo _for Glee club.

They were in Quinn's rec room and they'd played Rihanna and had worked out the choreography, which was going to be a big burn because they were all over each other.

When they cued the instrumental version, Santana sang the first verse and chorus of the song to Quinn and danced with her. But looking into her eyes, Santana saw something immediately shift in her friend's demeanor. The song was hurting her feelings and very obviously.

_Te amo, te amo  
She says to me, I hear the pain in her voice  
Then we danced underneath the candelabra she takes the lead  
Thats when I saw it in her eyes its over_

_Then she said te amo then she put her hand around me waist  
I told her no,  
She cried Te amo I told her I'll never run away but let me go  
My soul is crying, without asking why  
I said te amo, Somebody tell me what she said  
Don't it mean I love you  
Think it means I love you  
Don't it mean I love you_

Quinn sang tremulously:

_Te amo, te amo, she's scared to breathe  
I hold her hand, I got no choice  
Pull me out on the beach, danced in the water, I start to leave  
She's begging me and asking why its over_

_Then she says te amo then she put her hand around me waist  
I told her no,_  
_She cries Te amo I told her I'm not gonna run away, but let me go  
My soul is crying, without asking why  
I said te amo, Somebody tell me what she said  
Don't it mean I love you  
Think it means I love you  
Don't it mean I love you_

They both sang and Santana watched the anguish building in Quinn's eyes and even the fact they were dancing so intimately did nothing to change the sad distance between them.

_Listen, we can dance but  
you gotta watch your hands  
Watch me all night,  
I move under the light  
Because I understand that we all need love  
And I'm not afraid to feel the love  
But I don't feel that way, no_

_Then she says te amo then she put her hand around me waist  
I told her no,_  
_She cries te amo I told her I'm not gonna run away but let me go  
My soul is crying, without asking why  
I said te amo, Somebody tell me what she said  
Don't it mean I love you  
Think it means I love you  
Don't it mean I love you  
Don't it mean I love you  
Think it means i love you,  
I love you  
Te amo te amo  
Don't it mean I love you_

The song ended and the tears that had been welling in Quinn's eyes fell down her cheeks.

Santana wondered at her lack of foresight. The fact the song had always sounded so damned sexy to her had obscured how desperately sad it was lyrically. After a few moments, Quinn whispered, "She could have said no, San."

Santana nodded and understood. "Right. I know that. But she didn't, cap. So yeah. Okay. It was a nice thought but this song's a little too much for us for a lot of reasons. I get that. So! How 'bout this? I downloaded twenty-three animal vids from YouTube for us."

Quinn sighed with relief. Santana wasn't pushing and was just letting her flail go. She wanted to cry about the sheer kindness of that, too.

She wiped her eyes. On to a secret of theirs they told absolutely no one about. They watched cute animal videos together. Santana would show Brittany the videos but never told her she _savored_ them with Quinn.

They watched five videos before Santana kissed Quinn on the cheek, "I'd never say no to you either. _Te amo, mi hermosa_."

Quinn smiled at the monitor andsang, "Then she put her hand around me waist."

Santana smiled, "I'll never run away and I'll never let you go, _capitan_." She put her arm over Quinn's shoulder. "Next—a young goat bouncing on a trampoline."

Quinn sighed as she watched it and then laughed, completely delighted. "Oh my God! It's like watching Rachel wake up!"

"Right?"

* * *

**18 Years Old**

**Shopping for Sexual Accessories Online**

* * *

"How about that one?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"No."

"One. You have nothing to overcompensate for, Quinn, and two, I'm a petite and _human _female. No."

She pointed at the screen. "How about that one?"

Quinn grimaced, "I don't know. It looks a little dinky."

"Dinky is an interesting choice of words for the item at hand, so to speak, but it is not. Look at the specs on it. That's not dinky at all. In fact, most men would DIE and KILL for dinky like that."

"Okay, I guess."

"Well, we've got a ballpark on the size. Are you sure you want something so representational and realistic?"

Quinn nodded. "Absolutely."

"Alright. Not even going there. And I'm truly fine with your wanting that, Quinn, but even as we walk through this I think we need a few years before we do it."

Quinn shook her head, "Why?"

Rachel put a hand on Quinn's forearm, "I can already see if we added this to our lovemaking and I liked it and I know I would because it would be you—I'd feel like I had to pretend I didn't so you wouldn't get jealous of a toy. That wouldn't be fun for either of us. It'd be setting both of us up to fail and I know that sounds harsh and I'm sorry but I can completely see you going there. I'd preempt you because of my anxiety over your reaction and I know it. No, sweetheart. I know I couldn't enjoy it now. Because of me. All my fault. Not now."

Quinn thought about it and looked from the image onscreen to Rachel and back again.

"Thank you for framing it that way but I know it's me and my fault, Rachel. Order it when you think I can handle it, okay?"

Even after their next really 'big' sex talk at age twenty, Rachel didn't place the order until they were twenty-two.

* * *

**25 Years Old**  
**Golden Globes**

* * *

Both Rachel and Quinn were both nominated for Best for_ Two Women, One Man_. It was wrecking Quinn's nerves. And Rachel's actually. Neither wanted to win against the other. Santana was a pin-cushion of anxiety and Brittany just sighed watching them, knowing none of it ultimately mattered.

When they got ready for any event ceremony, Brittany, Santana and Rachel gathered in the den for their stylists, hair and make-up people to do their magic. Quinn always gave her opinion weeks earlier to stylists about their dresses, less happily put up with giving opinions about a makeup's 'tone' or 'theme' and always said what the fuck ever about hair. She despised the process and everyone in the house knew it.

She never asked their opinion about her dress or even allowed them to see it before she wore it. She had one makeup person and one person to do her hair. Otherwise, she said, after choosing her attire, she was pretty sure she could dress herself. She always dressed in the FOS, away from them. She couldn't tolerate fifteen people in a room working over the details of physical appearance. For Rachel, Santana and Brittany, it was a sort of fun girls' night getting ready. For Quinn it was water-boarding.

When they'd sent the stylists packing, Santana looked at Rachel and said, "_Damn_, girl, that's a lotta, lotta skin. Turn around." The dress was silver and didn't leave much to the imagination in the front but when she turned, there was mere drapery around the whole of her back down to just inches above her posterior. Rachel said, "I get to wear it. Quinn chose it."

"Quinn chose what?"

They all turned to see Quinn appear from the hall with her hair up in a fierce braided bun and a red dress none of them could believe. She'd obviously let Harry Winston lend her diamonds they could also scarcely believe—around her neck and both wrists.

Quinn had, heretofore, always gone for tailored dresses in slightly heavier fabrics. This dress covered her completely but it was nearly gauzy and extraordinarily tight and it accentuated her curves to a devastating degree.

"Fuck me sideways," Santana said quietly.

Rachel and Brittany nodded.

"Turn around, Q."

Quinn turned around. Santana took one look at Quinn's ass and threw her hands in the air, "Jesus!"

Quinn jerked her chin, "Are you saying my ass looks big in this dress because I don't even have to go to this bullshit."

"Are you insane? Oh, wait. Right. You are. Sorry for that tautology. No! I'm saying I want to fucking marry that ass and I'm already married. And sorry, Hobbs, Britts—_that's_ an ass. FUCK me."

"And it's mine," Rachel added.

Brittany glared at Santana and Rachel. "She's totally looks pretty but stop staring at her and making a big deal about it. _Now_."

Chastened, they both nodded obediently.

Brittany smiled at Quinn, "Your hair looks super pretty, Q."

Quinn knew what Brittany was doing and appreciated it. "Thank you, Brittany. I think that color looks great on you."

"I know, right? Thank you but you chose it so go figure."

Rachel smiled and said, "Quinn—can I talk to you for a second before the car comes?"

Quinn took Rachel's hand and said, "Of course."

Rachel pulled her into the hall and said, "You look beautiful, baby. It's a perfect dress."

Quinn lowered her head and asked shyly, "You like it?"

Rachel really never understood how someone as attractive as Quinn could feel so unsure of herself but she knew it was true. "I don't like it—I love it. Perfect color—perfect everything. But I have a favor to ask."

Quinn nodded.

"Would you please stay with me on the red carpet tonight?"

Quinn furrowed her brow, "Is something wrong?"

"No. Just for once, I'd like you with me." She lowered her eyes. "I was looking at Google images of you—yes—that's a guilty pleasure—and I realized there are almost no pictures of us together at events." She sighed, "Do you not want to be seen with me?"

Quinn gaped at her. "You have to be kidding me. We've been doing this for years. I'm just giving you space, sweetie, to do your star turn."

"I _know_. And I know you're a bigger star than me and you want me to get my picture taken by myself and get lots of attention just for me but I want _your_ attention more."

"Really?"

"Really. Is that wrong?" Quinn looked down into a pouting face and huge brown eyes and felt her heart melt. "No. It's not. I won't leave your side tonight, okay?"

Rachel beamed up at her, "Excellent!"

* * *

She didn't. Which was weird for the photographers, who were screaming, "Rachel—alone" but more frequently "Quinn! Alone!"

Quinn kept her hand on Rachel's naked back, didn't step away and said, "Not tonight, guys."

Rachel occasionally put one hand rather obviously on Quinn's ass without, evidently, noticing or any hesitation. Quinn didn't particularly care. It was a more obnoxious statement than even she'd ever make on the flip side at this point in her life but she thought it was sort of sweet. If her dress made Rachel feel possessive and she needed to feel in control, control on, as far as Quinn was concerned. It wasn't decorous but there it was.

* * *

**Chocolate Milk Red Carpet**

Red carpet interviews were forty-five seconds at most. Even the network made exceptions for Kurt and Mercedes with their friends because that was real juice.

"Get over here!" Mercedes laughed as Quinn and Rachel approached them.

Quinn held Rachel's hand but said to them, "Her first. Always."

Kurt looked her over and said, "Turn around."

Rachel smiled, turned and did her patented over the left shoulder look.

"Flawless." Kurt pronounced.

Mercedes nodded and said to Quinn as Rachel turned back to them, "I can't believe you let this girl out of the house with all that skin showing."

Quinn smiled, "Right? When we were sixteen I would have been a ballistic missile. I chose this dress for her. I think she looks amazing in it."

"She does," Kurt said and looked Quinn over. "And speaking of amazing? This is a fantastic departure for _you,_ Ms. Fabray."

"Thank you, Kurt."

Mercedes gauged the dress and said, "Mind turning around?"

Quinn sighed, turned around and Mercedes' eyes popped and she raised a hand. "Oh hell to the no."

Quinn turned quickly back to the camera and her friends.

Kurt intoned, "The sole nominee for best ass ever on the red carpet? Quinn Fabray."

"Stop it or I'll kill you."

Mercedes wasn't worried. "I hope you people are Tivo-ing this at home and can play that back. Just damn."

Kurt said very earnestly, "To paraphrase the immortal words of Salt-N-Pepa, 'Sistah, wanna thank your mothah for a butt like that.'"

"I can end you both if you don't stop talking about my butt. It's there. Who cares?"

"Let's see. Every viewer in America and all over the world right about now, Quinn."

"Yo yo, Chocolate Milk. Am I catching some static?" Santana and Brittany sidled up to them. "No more talk about my cap in any capacity—get that little linguistic joke? Or I'll punch you both in the face."

They half-laughed, knowing that would play as a joke for the TV audience but Santana was serious and Kurt and Mercedes knew it. Change of subject.

"You look totally amazing, Brittany!"

"Thanks, Mercedes. You do, too. Q chose it. And she chose San's dress, too."

Kurt looked Santana over. A dark blue brocade Suzie Wong dress with a slit up to her hip. Fierce. "I have never thought of this for you and now I'm wondering why. _Yes._ You kill the Suzie Wong look."

"Thanks, Kurt. The reason you never thought of it and Quinn did is because she's an even more amazing visual artist than she is an actor, buddy-boy. You guys kill the fashion gossip but Quinn could dress you better than you'd dress yourselves. We're all hoping we're not winning tonight—but we'll hit the parties. You'll be there?"

"Totally."

"Oh—Rachel—look over there." Mercedes pointed. "We got us some plus ones who want some Rachel time."

Rachel looked and screamed in excitement. "No way!"

The camera followed her as she picked the train of her dress up and ran over to Matt and threw herself in his arms. He didn't mind. He was married to Mercedes but he still had a vicious crush on Rachel. He hugged her and tried to keep his hands off her bare skin, which was next to impossible.

"Matt! I'm so excited! You guys have to go to the parties with us tonight!"

"Should I be jealous?"

She turned and gaped. David Karofsky! "Oh my GOD! David!" She immediately buried her head in his chest and hugged him like she needed him to live, and as always, tears fell from his eyes whenever she gave him this grace. She was so very, very tiny in his arms. "Hi, you. Me and Matt decided to crash your party."

"I'm so _happy._ Quinn and I hope to lose to Viola Davis and then hit every party in town. You can come with, right!"

"We'll go where Kurt and 'Cedes go, so sure."

She looked up into his lovely hazel eyes, which always reminded her of Quinn's. "I'm so excited you guys are here I'm beside myself!"

"Me too, Rach."

Quinn and Rachel lost to Viola Davis and they were both so relieved they stood to clap for her. She deserved it.

Quinn hated after-parties but she could tolerate them when she'd lost. That made her happy.

In the few moments she'd left Rachel's side all evening, she danced with Matt, while Mercedes and Kurt worked it on the floor, turned and saw Rachel sitting on David's lap and talking to him with starbursts of hand expressions. He was laughing and obviously loving her and she completely loved him right back.

Yes.

Bullies for the win.

* * *

**25 Years Old**

**Belize**

* * *

It had been a planned ceremony. None of them had ever had honeymoons so they'd splurged renting an entire island in Belize for ten days. Every couple had their separate home away from homes, their own private beaches, everything. Quinn, Rachel, Santana, Brittany, Eric and Jacob. But it was all for Judy and Vinnie, who married very simply and beautifully in the sunset on the island, as they'd chosen. They'd had the best time of their lives.

They were all always swimming and laughing and eating amazing food. Quinn looked at her mother smiling at her new husband and dived into the water, wanting the salt of the water to give her a reason to cry.

Her mommy was happy.

Finally.


	73. Chapter 73

**A/N: Previous disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Except for the part that it was going to be short and wasn't massively AU. Oops. And btw, there have been few couples who have both been nominated for Oscars in the same year. If you're both actors and good it can happen. **

**Very short chapter. I'm running SO LONG with what's coming up, it's slightly insane. So here's a snippet.**

**Mary Jane Girls' In My House. If you don't know that song, you should. YouTube, forward slash. **

**watch?v=RGeuX-W0XrY**

**17 Years Old**

* * *

Quinn and Santana had hijacked Kurt and Mercedes to sing back-up for a number they understood was a point they were making and who were they to argue?

They'd slapped the music on the band and said, "Just an idea."

Ryk laughed. He loved the song.

Quinn started it and grabbed Santana, pulled her close by her uniform and forced her into walking backward with her.

_Girl you can just best believe  
I'm the only girl in your life  
I'll be your sugar in the morning  
And the sweet stuff you need at night_

She swirled her around but continued to push her around which Santana rather obviously enjoyed.

_And you can just best believe  
When it comes down to makin love  
I'll satisfy your every need  
And every fantasy you think up_

It was the sexiest Quinn had ever been around the Glee club and looked so real that everyone slightly squirmed in their seats. Kurt and Mercedes gave the backup it was COD to do.

_So when you need a little peace of mind  
Come on over girl, anytime_  
_I'll keep you happy and so satisfied  
In my house, in my house  
So when you need some love and tenderness  
And it's me baby that you miss  
Here's the key to unlock the door_

_To my house (to my house)  
wo-oo-oo-oo- in my house  
wo-oo-oo-oo in my house_

Santana didn't hesitate. She charged Quinn right back. She was all over her. Figuratively and literally.

_Girl anytime of the day or night  
When you call me I will be there  
Just call me up on the phone  
When you need someone round to care_

_And when you feel sad and blue  
You just come see me anytime  
I'll kiss away all your tears  
And your fears you can leave behind_

Santana pulled Quinn by her Cheerios uni and put her hand on her ass and pushed her backwards. She meant what she was singing and everyone could see that.

_So when you need a little peace of mind  
Come on over girl, anytime  
I'll keep you happy and so satisfied  
In my house, in my house  
So when you need some love and tenderness  
And it's me baby that you miss  
Here's the key to unlock the door to my house (to my house)  
In my house  
In my house_

_Wo-oo-oo-oo- in my house_  
_wo-oo-oo-oo in my house_

_Wo-oo-oo-oo- in my house  
wo-oo-oo-oo in my house_

Kurt and Mercedes helped them work it until the song ended. Mr. Schue didn't know what to say.

Evidently it wasn't the big burn they'd thought it would be.

Brittany said, "Could you do that like five more times? Right now?"

Rachel nodded vehemently. "We're not even kidding."

Brittany nodded.

Santana looked at Quinn. "Why do we even try? Just damn."

* * *

**28 Years Old **

**Oscars**

* * *

"God, I hate this."

"You can deal."

"If she doesn't win, I'm going to die."

"Hyperbolic."

"What if she doesn't win and I do?"

"Wow. What if only one of us hauls an Oscar home. First world girl problem much? She's going to win, Q. If she doesn't, she'll have one hell of a consolation prize. You. What the fuck. And she'll win or I don't know what I'll do."

"See? Right. You're worried too."

Actually Santana had lost five pounds in the last week and was desperately trying to hide that fact. Rachel was up for best supporting but it would still nail the EGOT for her. Q was up for best in a different movie and could give a fuck if she won but still. It was wrecking her health thinking about she wins, _she_ doesn't win; they both don't win. FUCK.

"Oh, and guess what? Don't even think I'm not making and you aren't drinking a protein shake right now, bitch."

"Cow."

"Whatever. But yeah, protein-time."

It was a little or a lot like this every time they went to awards ceremonies. Quinn hated them and never more than when Rachel was up for one. Santana always had to talk Quinn off her figurative ledge. While trying to pretend she wasn't on one, too.

It was rinse and repeat. They never learned.

* * *

**Oscar Night**

"Please don't leave me on the red carpet tonight, baby."

Quinn looked down into Rachel's troubled eyes. "Done."

"I don't care, Quinn. I don't care if I win so please stop worrying and I know you hate this but please just try to enjoy it a little. For me. With me. Let's just have fun and not worry about what happens. Please."

Quinn kissed her. "I'll try. I'll enjoy it if you win and I lose."

"I think you're going to win, sweetheart."

"Then I'll try to smile. For you."

* * *

**Chocolate Milk**

"Ooh! Get over here! The dynamic duo for the night, Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray."

Quinn smiled at Kurt. "Don't you guys have Grammys or something? What are you doing here?"

He waved his hand in the air. "Please. You know the gig. Gossip and fashion march on. You both look amazing. I am somehow feeling Vaccarello on Rachel and some fierce retro Giulietta on you."

"Bingo is your name-o."

Mercedes laughed and high-fived Kurt before saying, "Rach, this is a big night for you, girl."

Rachel nodded at Mercedes. "It _is_. I might see my wife win an Academy Award. I'm so excited!"

Mercedes was always half weirded-out to hear Rachel at this point in their lives. To see this was how Rachel really felt after all this time. When they were kids, Rachel would have been radioactive with the need for the win. That need was strangely and honestly almost gone during award ceremonies and so surreal to see. There was almost nothing in her eyes anymore that said what it had used to. She was obviously excited and happy but nothing more. Mercedes could still see the need in the mirror in her own eyes and she supposed, in a way, Rachel had always been growing up more quickly than she had. Matt had told her that since they were sixteen.

"Yo yo!"

"Santana Lopez and our bestie Brittany Pierce-Lopez, people."

"Hi, guys."

"Mercedes? Call it."

"Turn around."

They did the 360.

"Thomas Tait for Santana and…Stella McCartney for Britts."

"Pow. Yes."

"You all chose some younger designers tonight. Any reason?"

"Q got bored so we had to mix it up visually. Who's in charge?"

Mercedes and Kurt said to Quinn, "She is."

Quinn shrugged. "When everyone knows that, everything goes well. Are Matt and David here?"

"Yep. They're our plus ones. We'll be tweeting all night, by the way."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "And me and Britts won't be because we're too blonde and smart for it. By the way, Brittany is my plus one and San is Rachel's. Rachel pulled the short straw."

Santana socked Quinn in the shoulder really hard. "Bish!"

"Ouch! Damn, San!"

"Please. As if that hurt _you_."

Quinn actually smiled into the camera for the first time. "Fine. _Not_. When we were kids, this woman pimp-slapped me lots of times so hard my ears rang. True story. Ellen DeGeneres? Did you see that? Oh yeah. I've been her best friend for twenty-two years and she just punched me. Again. You got lucky, sister."

Santana shrugged and smirked into the camera as Kurt and Mercedes nodded wildly in affirmation.

* * *

Best Supporting Actress was first, as per usual. Rachel won. And that made everyone in her family weep with joy. She didn't. She merely nodded as the overhead announcer intoned, "Winning this award at age 28, Rachel Berry ties with Barbra Streisand as the youngest EGOT winner in history. Emmy, Grammy, Tony and Oscar."

Rachel took her Oscar, smiled at it and spoke quickly, "I'm slightly older than Ms. Streisand when she won so she's the youngest still. As she should be. No tie at all except my enduring tie to my awe at her magnificence. I feel such a debt of gratitude to my director Joel Silverman, my leading man Andrew Whitsell and to all of our cast and crew. You're all the only reason I'm here. I owe everything forever to my fathers. I love you. I love my mother Judy. My sister Beth, our kids Noah Junior, Little Quinn and Beryl. My partners, Santana and Brittany. I love you. Noah and Samantha, I love you. And finally, my Quinn. I've worked to achieve this goal literally since I was three only to find you've again made it so beside the point of my life. I'll look into your beautiful eyes before I go to sleep tonight and I'll wake up next to you tomorrow. My daddy once told me there was a one-word answer to all the questions he'd ever had about life. I have my one word answer too. Quinn. Thank you!"

**Commercial Break: Twitter**

**Puckzilla: SLeftyLopez** My Jew! She effin won! She killed that speech! #EGOT

**SLeftyLopez:** Of course she did! Zoop Zoop. My girl! YES! E-G-O-T, bitchez! #EGOT

**BethCorcoran: SLeftyLopez** **Puckzilla **Big sister got game! I love you guys. #EGOT

**BethCorcoran: RachelBarbraBerry **So proud! Love you! #EGOT

**SamZilla: RachelBarbraBerry** Don't make my man do the whole creys thing. Oops. You did! #EGOT

**TheMercedes**: **RachelBarbraBerry **I'm crying for real. Damn girl I am so proud! #EGOT

**ShelbyCorcoran:** **RachelBarbraBerry: **I love you, Rachel Berry. Who cares about the EGOT? But even so? #EGOT !

**KHummel**: **RachelBarbraBerry **I have never felt happier or more proud in my life. Ever. Ever. #EGOT

**DKarofsky: RachelBarbraBerry** I want to throw myself in the air right this minute and I'm a big guy so that's hard! Damn! #EGOT

**ZSargent:** **RachelBarbraBerry** Who didn't know this would happen? EFF YEAH! I love you, Rachel Berry! #EGOT #dontcallthepoliceQ

**Ellen_Degeneres:** **RachelBarbraBerry** Somehow, I feel a sumo smackdown in my future! So happy! So well deserved. #EGOT

**Ellen_Degeneres:** **SLeftyLopez **Bring Quinn to protect me next time you're on the show #EGOT

**SLeftyLopez: Ellen_DeGeneres:** Will do. She's way more interesting than I am and keeps me honest #EGOT

**JosephCarson:** **RachelBarbraBerry: **That mean I don't get to cast you again without megabucks? SO CRAZY PROUD! FUCK ME W/ A CHAINSAW! #EGOT

**TheValerieCon: RachelBarbraBerry**:Oh. My. God. Holy—Q would kill me for cursing so fill in! U RULE! #EGOT

**ReginaMiller: RachelBarbraBerry** Knew it from the minute I clapped eyes on you. Love you and Teddy loves you too, darling. #EGOT #Zacdontworry

**MrSchue:** **RachelBarbraBerry** You DESERVE it. No one's ever worked harder than you. Warmest love from me and Emma. #EGOT

**ZeMattBrown: RachelBarbraBerry**: Damn, I'm just dying here. YES. YES!

**ZeMattBrown: RachelBarbraBerry**: That's MY girl. Oh—sorry Q. Cedes. U know what I mean! But still. Damn! #EGOT

**SamEvans:** **RachelBarbraBerry**: I'm so happy. SO damn happy. Go RachelBB. #EGOT

**LZizes:** **RachelBarbraBerry**: Yes! You're my fave dwarf ever. #EGOT!

**SLeftyLopez: LZizes: **Watch it. Step to the left, Z, or I'll smack you #EGOT

**LZizes: SLeftyLopez: **Never change, asshole #EGOT

**SLeftyLopez: LZizes: **Right? I'm so happy. Aren't you?" #EGOT

**LZizes: SLeftyLopez: **I don't know how I feel. I'm so happy I want to tear things in half or something #EGOT

**ArtieAbrams:** **RachelBarbraBerry: **Yes. And yes. And yes. Go gurrlll. So proud of you. Of course, right? #EGOT

**TinaCohenChang**: **RachelBarbraBerry: **Looked up to you forever, tho you're shorter. Never said it. I should have. I'm overjoyed. I love you #EGOT

**MikeChang: RachelBarbraBerry:** I wish every human were worthy of what you just achieved. YOU are. So GRATEFUL to know, love and work with you. #EGOT

**FinnHudson: RachelBarbraBerry**: I dreamed a dream in time gone by. When hope was high and life worth living. I dreamed that love would never die. #EGOT

**FinnHudson: RachelBarbraBerry**: I dreamed that God would be forgiving. Then I was young and unafraid. U've been brave 4ever, Rach. #EGOT

**FinnHudson: RachelBarbraBerry**: I used to listen to that song & think of U. So happy nothing killed your dream. SO happy #EGOT

**FinnHudson: RachelBarbraBerry**: Sorry I talked so much. I love you, Rachel. #EGOT

**RachelBarbraBerry: FinnHudson:** Thank you so much! I love you back, Finn. And no, Q and S won't kill you because I said that. #WeloveFinnHudson

**RachelBarbraBerry: BethCorcoran: **Baby sister. You're first. Always remember that. You're first. For so many reasons. I love you.

**RachelBarbraBerry: Puckzilla SamZilla:** I love you, Noah. I love you Sam

Out of nowhere, which astonished Santana, Rachel sent:

**RachelBarbraBerry: TheSueSylvester: **I love you too, Coach, even though you were never my coach

And had an instant reply. When the fuck had these two started following each other?

**TheSueSylvester: RachelBarbraBerry: **#EGOT. Knew it from the moment you infested the halls of WMHS. Egotism is next. Wear it proudly or I know where you live

Rachel smiled and for a strange number of reasons she couldn't exactly quantify, Sue Sylvester being happy for her in her inimitable way made her feel giddier than any reaction of the night.

Until she got one more.

**BarbraStreisand:RachelBarbraBerry:** Welcome to the club, kiddo. Happy for you.

**RachelBarbraBerry: BarbraStreisand: **No! Really? Thank you so much! Thank you! Look at my middle name. You're THAT person to me. THANK YOU! OMG!

**RachelBarbraBerry: **I can't answer you all because I'm speechless now & have to do press! But THANK YOU. I love you!

**Best Actress in a Leading Role.**

Quinn looked entirely dismayed as she heard her name. She'd won. She tried to half-smile, kissed Rachel and Santana on the lips, Brittany on the cheek. She crossed the floor without a smile, waved the helpful man on the stairs away, climbed the stairs as if she were going to her hangman and accepted her Oscar.

"Okay. Am I getting lucky tonight or what? In one sense of that phrasing rather than the other. Choose for yourselves."

The audience laughed and she half-smiled with them.

"Start cueing the music in fifteen seconds and we'll have problems, producers. If you're running long at the end of this fiasco and you _always_ are, whose fault's that? Got me? Give me one minute and I'll be out."

The audience laughed.

"Every one of my fellow nominees were robbed tonight."

She spoke very, very quickly, "I'm truly sorry these other incredible women who are so far worthier than I for this honor didn't win but you gave it to me and I suppose I'd be a jerk if I didn't take it. That said, I'm so proud of this film. To the extent this award reflects positively on the time and love so many amazing people put into making this 106 minute piece of art I was truly only a very tiny part of, I'm happy to accept it. I love my parents, friends, my four children, partners and wife more than my capacity to express."

"But." She looked at her Oscar and half-laughed, half-growled, "Puckerman?"

She nodded fiercely as if willing herself to continue. "If you'd told me when I was fifteen I'd say this, I'd have laughed at you right before I hurt you. Nobody but everyone I grew up with knows how true that is. _My_ people know me but not one of the rest of you here tonight really know what I am and always will be."

She shook the statue in her hand. "I hope to God I never win another of these awards. I hope with all my heart this is my only chance to say this is for you, Noah Puckerman. When I say my prayers at night, and I always do. Every night."

She paused to compose herself and looked back into the camera, "I thank God for the man you've become. I thank God you're so happily married to Samantha and I thank God that He so inexplicably blessed me and so very beyond my deserving with your being the father of every one of my children. Thank you, Noah. I love you."

* * *

Rachel had her Oscar in her lap and was holding Brittany and Santana's hands. Rachel and Santana cried because they were so happy Quinn had won but cried harder listening to Quinn's acceptance speech. Brittany didn't cry. She smiled. She'd always known Q would make up with Puck eventually. Quinn had secret-loved him since like forever and when she secret-loved people it made her super mean to them. Even if it had taken thirteen years to admit it, it was finally out there. Things would be totally cool.

* * *

The babies had watched for a while but they were only two so who knew what they were thinking. They'd fallen asleep, Noah Jr. with one arm over Berry to keep her safe and Little Quinn wrapped around a pillow, which, because he was a sort of loner little guy, inevitably what he preferred.

Samantha watched Puck crying silently. She understood for some reason she knew Quinn would never share with her, the woman had finally taken Puck off the hook.

Her husband walked out onto the deck of the LA house the foursome had leased for all of them. He suddenly dived into the pool fully clothed, pulled himself out and sat on the side of it.

Sam went out to him and ran her hand over his head.

He looked as sad as she'd ever seen him. Yet so much more peaceful. When she took a seat next to him, he nodded and said to the pool, to himself and to her, "Yes."

His clothes were dripping on the pavement and the water was coolish-warm as she sat and dipped her feet into the pool next to him and leaned into his wet shoulder.

They looked out at the night sky. It was Cali. It was just getting dark.

Yes.

Quinn was okay.

Yes.

And he was, too.

Yes.

* * *

**Twitter:**

**KHummel:** **RachelBarbraBerry** I can't even. I LOVE Quinn Fabray #IloveQuinn

**TheMercedes: RachelBarbraBerry** I love Quinn Fabray #IloveQuinn

**ZeMattBrown**: **RachelBarbraBerry** I love you, Quinn Fabray. So proud. #IloveQuinn

**BethCorcoran RachelBarbraBerry** My mother is a Golden God! #IloveQuinn

**ShelbyCorcoran:** **RachelBarbraBerry** Two for two! The bravest and best women I've ever known! #IloveQuinn

**DKarofsky:** **RachelBarbraBerry **I love you Quinn. So happy. I DO know you and I AM YOUR people. So proud of you—lead the way, sweetie #IloveQuinn

**ArtieAbrams: RachelBarbraBerry:** Tell her I feel SO lucky to count her as my friend. Tell her I love her, Rachel. #IloveQuinn

**TinaCohenChang: RachelBarbraBerry** Remember standing with U so afraid when she and S & B passed by and now just crazed that I'm not there with U guys! Tell her SO happy. #IloveQuinn

**SamEvans:** **RachelBarbraBerry **Tell her I'm so proud I want to explode. I'm not talking about the Oscar. Wow. Just—yes! And love U again 2. #IloveQuinn

**FinnHudson: RachelBarbraBerry** **PuckZilla** I'm happy and U guys know why. Tell her she made me happy and proud. #IloveQuinn And U P in a guy way. So much

**MikeChang: RachelBarbraBerry** Just when I thought your wife couldn't be more beautiful, she proves me wrong. Again. #IloveQuinn

**PuckZilla:** **RachelBarbraBerry** Tell her thank you. So proud of my baby mama and I know she'll punch me 4 that when she sees me next #IloveQuinn

**SamZilla:** **RachelBarbraBerry** If I didn't have a husband, I'd hip check you for that wife. SO proud of Q. Not talking about that Oscar #IloveQuinn

**Ellen_Degeneres:** **RachelBarbraBerry **Wow. So amazing. I'm so happy. #IloveQuinn

**ReginaMiller:** **RachelBarbraBerry **Teddy might have shed a tear. Has a big soft spot for that wife of yours. Joy! #IloveQuinn

**LZizes: RachelBarbraBerry PuckZilla SamZilla **Dwarf—tell Q that was completely badass. I'm happy for U guyz. #IloveQuinn

**MrSchue:** **RachelBarbraBerry PuckZilla **Emma and I are speechless. I'm SO happy. Tell her we both are. #IloveQuinn

**ZSargent:** **RachelBarbraBerry **Right there! YES! Coming over tmrw to wrestle with the babies. Or U. But it's ON! I love U all. #IloveQuinn

**JosephCarson: RachelBarbraBerry** Tell her I'm having heart palpitations now. OMG #IloveQuinn

**TheValerieCon: Rachel BarbraBerry **The most amazing person I've ever met and the 1 person I know loves me. I'm so proud of U, Q. #IloveQuinn

**TheSueSylvester: RachelBarbraBerry: **#IloveQuinn. I realize I can't take this back. Hashtags are forever. A sacrifice I'll make this time, midget

**RachelBarbraBerry:** Commercial break! Thanks all. Much love! I'll show her your messages. She's doing the press thing

**RachelBarbraBerry: SLeftyLopez** I know we're in comm break but don't you dare tweet me. You're sitting right next to me

**SLeftyLopez: RachelBarbraBerry **For realz? Did you just tweet that, hobbs?

**RachelBarbraBerry: SLeftyLopez **No

**SLeftyLopez: RachelBarbraBerry **How trenchant. You know that song Insane in the Membrane?

**RachelBarbraBerry: SLeftyLopez **Of course I do. Cypress Hill. I resent what you're implying. Both the intent & your suggestion I'm not well-versed musically

**SLeftyLopez: RachelBarbraBerry **You know we're texting now right? Not tweeting—except we're on Twitter. People—it always ends up like this with R

**RachelBarbraBerry: SLeftyLopez **You make me!

**SLeftyLopez: RachelBarbraBerry **And this is what I live with

**RachelBarbraBerry: SLeftyLopez** I hate you

**SLeftyLopez: RachelBarbraBerry **You love me. #IloveQuinn

**RachelBarbraBerry: SLeftyLopez **Perhaps I do but #IloveQuinn MORE!

**SLeftyLopez: RachelBarbraBerry **Can't be done, shawty. I love you Rachel Berry #hobbitlove

**RachelBarbraBerry: SLeftyLopez **Grrrrrr. Shhhh. It's back on! We're supposed to be watching! #ese

**KHummel: **No seriously. That's how R and S are ALL THE TIME #wtf

**ZSargent: KHummel** Right? #wtf

**RachelBarbraBerry:** **ZSargent KHummel** SHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Best actor!

**ZSargent: KHummel** Kiss them for me, Q and R. And B if you can get past S. And S 2.

**KHummel: ZSargent**: Kiss them for me. Ooh. Souixsie and the Banshees. Yum

**ZSargent: KHummel:** Ha! Shhhhh or they'll kill us #dontcallthepolice

* * *

After-parties. Quinn hated, hated, hated them. Especially when she'd won or even when she hadn't. Rachel loved, loved, loved them. Especially when she'd won or even when she hadn't.

Which was why it was a huge surprise when Rachel pulled Quinn aside and spoke very quietly. "We're ditching, baby. Noah and Sam and Brittany and Santana know, okay? I booked a garden cottage at the Chateau Marmont for the night for us a week ago."

Quinn did a double take. "_What_? _No_! That's crazy. It's your _night_, Rachel. EGOT! You're going to be the belle of the ball at every party."

Rachel nodded. "I know! But I want to spend the night with you, Quinn. Only you."

Quinn actually stepped back in disbelief. "No. Why?"

Rachel sighed. Quinn could be so obtuse. "Sweetheart. Yes, this is the professional achievement of a lifetime. It will always be the most incredible professional night of my life. Yes. But no to parties. You're all I need and want tonight, baby. Or will ever need and want."

Quinn saw nothing but absolute honesty in Rachel's eyes and couldn't or didn't quite want to believe it. "Really?"

"Really."

"No parties, really?"

"Well, a personal one for us because there's fantastic champagne chilling even as we speak and our favorite vegan sushi waiting on us in our cottage."

Tears welled in Quinn's eyes. This was such a massive sacrifice on Rachel's part and she knew it. Rachel saw the decision being weighed in Quinn's mind.

"Say yes, Quinn. For me. For _me_. Just us tonight. Please say yes."

Quinn felt like something massive was being lifted from her soul. And hoped Puck must have felt the same way tonight. It was so simple and so hard. Accepting grace.

"Yes."

Rachel smiled. Beamed. The look in Quinn's eyes was worth more than ten thousand accolades she might have gotten during the evening. Quinn looked completely overwhelmed by happiness.

Rachel had discovered over the years Quinn suffered from apparently incurable anhedonia in every social situation. Time and therapy hadn't changed it at all. When having to present a public face, she was always completely miserable.

Beside that, Quinn needed nearly to be drowned in happiness before she could ever truly register _feeling_ happy. But she had to be privately drowned. She was happy with Rachel, occasionally. With her family, occasionally. Rachel had seen her change over the years into a woman able to relax and smile and joke with friends but she was never actually happy. It was always only a flash in the sky. A random lightning strike.

It was so incredibly rare but something Rachel lived to create in her eyes. Rachel was proud of herself. They'd been together twelve years and she'd painstakingly learned to look beyond herself to Quinn. It had taken such a long time to understand what Quinn actually needed as opposed to what she'd imagined Quinn might need if Quinn were her. Being married had taught her that. Having Brittany and Santana had taught her that. Having children taught her that. Other people weren't her. It was continually shocking to her and she worked on it all the time.

On a moment's further reflection, she realized the fact she was proud of herself was probably just more EGOTism, as Coach Sylvester had said.

Well.

Be that as it may.

Rome wasn't built in a day.

One minute, hour or day at a time, as Quinn would say.

* * *

**Chocolate Milk After Oscars**

"Hold up! Don't think you're creeping by. C'mere. Our EGOT winner and winner for Best Actress!"

Rachel smiled, Quinn held her hand and said. "Hi, guys. Thanks for your messages."

"You're welcome. We're so excited!"

Quinn nodded about as happily as if she were placing an order at Burger King, "Big night for sure."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. She knew Quinn. "Rachel—did _you_ enjoy it?"

Rachel smiled, "I loved Quinn's acceptance speech. I will never forget that and I know Noah won't. That's my take away forever for tonight."

Kurt saw something was a little off and tried for the trivial. "Okay! What party can we find you guys at first?"

Rachel pulled Quinn to her, "Not a one. I planned ahead to surprise her and we're going somewhere to have our own party, just by ourselves."

Mercedes' mouth dropped open, "No way. You're Ms. EGOT and you're not going to all these parties? You gotta know they'll be all about you."

"I know but they'll have to be about someone else. All I want tonight is champagne, great food and hours of hot, passionate conversation with my wife."

Quinn blushed but bluffed, "And the audience doesn't understand the fact we will actually be talking."

Rachel nodded. "We will be. Solely talking. Nothing but."

Quinn glared at her.

Rachel laughed. And kissed Quinn on her red, warm and embarrassed cheek.

* * *

**A/N—If you don't think babies have the power to want other babies safe? My first little brother is thirteen months younger than I am and my mother said from the time he was 14 months old and could physically muster the coordination to walk, (and I remember it) he would always, always move between me and anything he thought might threaten me. She said his first motivation to crawl was to get between me and the world. He always did and still does. I love both of my brothers. **

**Next Chapter: Ten Year Reunion and more and it's gotten so long!  
**


	74. Chapter 74

**A/N: Previous disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Except for the part that it was going to be short and wasn't massively AU. **

**Back to our story…don't you guys reading this sometimes think, 'Will this sh$t ever end? Please tell me it's almost over.' I know you do. **

**This is just PART of the chapter I'm trying to write. It's gotten so long I'll just send this part to you.**

**I love you people who continue to read. **

**A little heavy at the beginning. I'm not slip-sliding in time so much in this chapter. It stays in the frame of two years. **

* * *

**27 Years Old**

* * *

**Quinn Fabray on a Bad Day**

**Interview at her movie's opening night in LA **

* * *

Annie Williams was a young up and comer on the After Ellen site and she was funny but she also tried to be serious, too. They weren't live mic but she was filming interviews to upload to the site. She waved at Quinn and Quinn smiled at her and walked over to her. "Wow! Quinn Fabray! Thanks for talking with us."

"Hi. Nice to see you. No problem."

"This is so cool! Your wife Rachel Berry has made a point of being a public face for the LGBT community and especially for gay teens."

Quinn nodded and smiled, "She has and I'm so proud of her for it."

The interviewer stalled for a second, then said, "I guess I'm wondering why _you _don't do more with our community considering how famous you are."

Wrong question. She saw it instantly.

Quinn nodded, smiled and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're sort of new at this, aren't you? Don't even answer. Know so. How about this scenario? I'm a gay woman very publicly married to another woman. Living with two other women very publicly married to each other. I've been out since I was sixteen. I've lived my entire professional life with everyone knowing I was a lesbian. Remember my real pro life started when I was twenty. Can you say the same? Something about you tells me no. I can see and hear from your clothes and attitude and that question you came out in college and probably about junior/senior year. I won't be meaner about that but I assure you I could and I know I'm right."

Annie felt sure this woman could.

"What exactly do I have to do to pass muster with you? I respect what my wife does but I'm never going to wave some banner about my sexuality. The only banner I will ever wave is my bully flag because that's something I'm proud of. Making daily decisions rather than hype something you will never understand about me. Don't presume anything about me, Annie Williams. It's RUDE. So. You're a lesbian."

She waved her hand. "Hip hip hurray. Who the hell cares who you sleep with? I can promise you I don't. If you care about who I sleep with, you're pathetic and you already have a very public answer. My wife. I wouldn't imagine for one second in my life you owed me anything for being gay. Your supposition is I'm famous and gay so I owe you something, right? I owe an entire community exactly_ what_ for being gay? It won't end there, believe me, little girl. Tell me next what I owe you for being a blonde, white woman prettier than most people. I've heard it all—all my life. Oh, but wait. I'm also famous and rich and so I owe you even more, right? Tell me exactly what you imagine I owe you and I'll write you a check, junior coffee achiever. Can you even understand how disrespectful your question was?"

"I may not be gay enough for your taste but I'm gay enough for my very female _wife_ and that's enough for me. Talk to my wife in the future if you like her better. I like her better too. But don't talk to me because as you're finding out right about now I have zero tolerance for people slapping labels on me and telling me to act how they imagine I should. Zero. Believe it or not, this has been my being so much nicer to you than I could have been."

Annie was shell-shocked but opened her mouth.

Quinn lifted one hand. "No. I'm walking away for your sake. Interview over. Find someone who's authentically gay enough for you. At least fifty actual closet cases will pass you by tonight. Talk to _them_ if they'll even stop to listen to your puerile questions. Feel free to post this on your website. I hope it gets a thousand negative comments. Look in my eyes and tell me how much you think I'll care."

* * *

Two hours before this exchange, as they were dressing for the event, Quinn received the news that Russell Fabray had died of a sudden heart attack.

She wouldn't let anyone in her family touch her or talk to her. She'd dressed and walked the red carpet, bitched that poor young reporter out and went into the public bathroom and cried. She wanted to kill him for dying. And she didn't know why. It was so stupid.

Her daddy was dead. She was surprised he still had the power to hurt her. She felt lost in a way she hadn't since she was fifteen. She wiped her eyes and thought of Rachel's mantra. Chin up. Star face. You know your lines. They need you. You don't need them. Everything's coming up roses.

When she emerged, Rachel, Santana and Brittany could see she'd been crying.

She nodded at them. "Don't touch me. I'm okay. I need space."

They gave it to her and, after about forty minutes, Quinn took Rachel's hand and pulled her into a slightly secluded corner. "Want to go to a funeral?"

Rachel took a deep breath. "Absolutely." She knew, without any question, that Quinn, as she'd been raised, was not only saddened by her father's dying but frightened for her father's soul. She knew, without any question, Quinn wouldn't tell her that.

"Good times, huh?"

Rachel kissed her on the cheek. "I'm so very sorry your father died, baby. He's my daddy's age. That's too young and it doesn't feel fair. I'm so sorry he's gone."

Quinn shook her head. "How can you even say that?"

"Because he was a deeply unhappy person and human beings are _flawed_, Quinn. I'll pray for him tonight and every night. We'll do a Viking funeral together tonight. I _know_ you're sad and afraid for him because of how he raised you. If I can think of Russell Fabray with compassion after what he did to you and me, I know our God, who's a billion times better than both of us, sweetheart, loves him. Your father's in God's hands tonight. A very loving God who'll know who he wanted to be and didn't live up to. He wasn't evil. He was just terribly flawed."

She caressed Quinn's cheek and spoke very quietly, "I can't imagine, when I can completely forgive him for what he did to me, that God couldn't. One of the tenets of my faith that is not yours is the fact I can't forgive your father for anything he's committed against you. _You_ have to. You've been so angry for so long about what he did to me. I forgave him that first night in the hospital even when I knew he'd do it again if he could. I don't hold onto any person's having hurt me. You always do, baby, and it's not good for you. I'm not a Christian but I do believe in the Christian communion of saints. I believe he still exists and I believe he's in a place that's better than this one. It may take lots of time, sweetie, but it will help you to forgive him. You don't have to forget but forgiving and walking away in peace from him doesn't have to be for him if you don't want it to be. It's for you, baby. We can work on it together okay?"

Quinn felt like her head was going to explode but she nodded and Rachel hugged her. She hadn't wanted to cry again but she did.

Annie Williams was stunned to get a text an hour after her debacle on the red carpet. She had felt so humiliated by the exchange with Quinn she hadn't known what to do except leave, which she had.

**QuinnFabray: AnnieWilliams:** I'm sorry. My people called yours for this number. You couldn't know my father died today

**AnnieWilliams: QuinnFabray**: OMG. I'm so sorry

**QuinnFabray:AnnieWilliams:** Please don't make that public but you can still put my bitchy interview up. I don't care

**QuinnFabray:AnnieWilliams:** He always made me feel like a failure

**QuinnFabray:AnnieWilliams:** It was too much to hear another suggestion I was letting other people down today. I apologize

**AnnieWilliams:QuinnFabray:** Got it. We never had that interview or this convo. It will never see daylight. I'm sorry for your loss

**QuinnFabray:AnnieWilliams:** If you wanna play 20 questions sometime, I will. I need a few days

**AnnieWilliams:QuinnFabray:** Absolutely. Txt me when you're ready

**QuinnFabray:AnnieWilliams:** Thanks, mensch

**AnnieWilliams:QuinnFabray:** My girl's Jewish 2! You gave me stuff to think about. I was presumptuous and I'm sorry

**QuinnFabray:AnnieWilliams: **Talk to you in a few days. Sorry again

**AnnieWilliams:QuinnFabray: **Stop apologizing. I got to talk to a gorgeous mean woman. It was exhilarating. And now I have her phone number!

**QuinnFabray:AnnieWilliams: ** Have you met Santana Lopez?

**AnnieWilliams:QuinnFabray: **LOL. Uh oh. No. But I'll take your word for it! That interview is toast. We weren't live and were editing now. Didn't happen

The interview never played and Quinn called in and did 20 Questions with Annie Williams two days after her father's funeral. Annie was stunned by how sweet and warm Quinn was and told her so.

Quinn snorted. "You met me slightly un-edited the first time, Annie. I'm a complete bitch and you can put that in this interview."

"I will not!"

"Sucker."

"For a pretty face, yeah."

"Would it surprise the hell out of you to know I've heard that before?"

Annie laughed heartily and said, "Thank you for your time, Quinn."

"No problem. Look forward to talking to you and After Ellen any time."

* * *

The funeral was odd.

It was attended by many of his colleagues. And Quinn, Rachel, Brittany and Santana, Eric, Jacob, Judy and Vinnie. His second wife, Theresa. But no Toni. They hadn't heard from her.

Oddly enough and one of the biggest surprises of her life, Russell had made Judy the sole executor of his will. His final will left his new home and summer cottage to Theresa but all other assets, which were considerable, he evenly divided between Theresa and Quinn. No one else. Judy smiled as she heard this. She knew Russell. Evidently he'd wanted Judy to be in charge if Theresa kicked up at that.

Judy hadn't known she'd feel nearly destroyed to hear Russell had died but she had. She remembered him as a boy. Not one of the people who attended the funeral could remember a young man who'd brought her a green apple on their first date, which she'd thought wildly, incredibly odd and fought not to laugh at. He'd been so anxious as he offered it to her like it was a red rose and said, "Green apples are great, aren't they Judy?"

She'd nodded because she did actually like green apples. Years had gone by. She could never fathom what had gone wrong for him or with them. He'd been sweet and unsure as a young man and life, as he moved through his adult experience of it, had somehow completely derailed him. She'd watched it and hadn't known anything to do.

She was so sad for that and always would be sad for him or that she'd joined him for a part of that journey.

Toni was gone—lost to her and probably forever. It was a loss she chose not to look at because it wasn't even really officially there. She tried not to think of it. Losing a child who wasn't dead but who hadn't talked to you in eleven years was something that forced her prematurely into a posthumous existence. Judy had four grandchildren now. Perhaps. She didn't even know if Toni was a mother. Or married. Anything. Perhaps she never would.

Quinn was the only one left. Judy knew the mother's maxim: You're only as happy as your unhappiest child. Her one child who'd chosen to keep her was as happy as she could be.

Her husband was gone. Her first child was gone. Quinn was enough. Vinnie was enough.

* * *

**27 Years Old**

Tina's mother was a twin. Tina's grandmother was a twin. It wasn't a total surprise that she and Mike were having twins. A boy and girl.

They'd been in New York for months for Mike's new choreography gig with Brittany on Broadway.

It was snowing insanely, again. Brittany and Santana ran four miles to get to the hospital, having left Quinn and Rachel on tenterhooks with the children.

It was like deja vue all over again. The babies were early and Tina and Mike's parents couldn't fly in.

They ran into Tina's hospital room and immediately shed the coats and even sweaters they were wearing. Sweating and panting in delight as they smiled at the sight of Tina holding two children.

Tina smiled at them. "Come look! We have babies!"

Santana beamed. "You sure do! Can I hold one? Gimme that boy." Santana cradled him gently. She'd grown into understanding infants were like liters of soda—pretty tough but not too tippy or bouncy without trouble. She smiled down into a face that was nearly perfectly a baby Mike. "My God in heaven. That's a Chang C Chang right there! He's gorgeous! DAMN!"

Mike smiled and laughed. "He's a dream. Look, Britts, hold our daughter." Brittany was completely happy to do so.

She smiled down into Tina's eyes in a tiny sweet little face. "She's may be the best baby girl ever—right up there with Berry. Did you name them?"

"We did," Mike said. "San's holding Cohen Michael Chang. Cohen Chang. Cool, right?"

Santana nodded. "Burn! Cut to the chase! That's a great name for this little guy."

Micheal's voice was more gentle when he said, "Our daughter's name is Brittany Irena Chang. We'll call her Brittany."

Brittany shook her head in wonder. "You named your little baby after me?"

Mike and Tina smiled at her and he said, "We named our daughter after the person we admire most in this world, Britts."

Brittany was overwhelmed as she looked at the infant, "She's too pretty to be named after me, guys."

Tina smiled, "She's so pretty she might live up to you, Britts. We'll see. Cohen and Brittany!"

Santana very gently rocked Cohen in her arms and thanked God He'd done His magic and had given her a little Brittany.

* * *

**SLeftyLopez: RachelBarbraBerry** Cohen Chang and Brittany Chang! (url to picture) #CChang

**RachelBarbraBerry: SLeftyLopez TinaCohenChang MikeChang **We're on the way! Puck and Sam came for the babies! #CChang

**RachelBarbraBerry: SLeftyLopez TinaCohenChang MikeChang **SO EXCITED! #CChang

**Puckzilla:MikeChang** I love you 4ever man 4 those names. Badass #CChang

**ZeMattBrown:MikeChang TinaCohenChang** They're amazing! I'm so happy, guys. #CChang

**TheMercedes: TinaCohenChang** Hell to the no! So early? I'm booking a damn flight now #CChang

**KHummel: TinaCohenChang **She actually is. I'm evidently her plus one. Matt can't come. Don't know about the weather #CChang

**TheMercedes: KHummel:** Please. These bitch airplanes can fly—they're just acting out #CChang

**KHummel: TinaCohenChang:** Ladies and gentleman, I present our aviation expert, Ms. Jones. #CChang

**TheMercedes: KHummel. **Hush. Travelocity's acting out too. #CChang

**KHummel:** As Q would say, the glamorous lives of Grammy winners. (url link to a picture of Mercedes scowling at her laptop)

* * *

**28 Years Old**

Handling security for big stars going to their high school reunion wasn't easy. Santana put 25K into real security for their family homes and put 15K into Lima's police bill for the night. She wanted to be there but she wanted their police to be there, too. She didn't want the community to pay for the fact they were famous.

It had been deemed a "Come as You Were" Party by the reunion committee.

Which had made Quinn and Santana roll their eyes. They still fit into their uniforms or, actually at this point, they were a bit loose. Quinn's hair was shorter but she could still make a small pony. The attitude was no problem at all.

Brittany had kept her weight exactly what it had always been. She was a pro.

Rachel had resurrected Mr. Owl and a shockingly short argyle skirt which had caused a delay because Quinn had become licentious looking at her before they'd left their fathers' home. Rachel allowed a quick, rough and successful amount of romance to occur because scary cheerleader Quinn was, after all, very sexy Quinn.

The paparazzi had gathered and the four of them, plus Mike and Tina who'd streaked her hair blue for the occasion didn't know whether it wasn't a little thrilling to their fellow classmates. At this point, for them, it was only irritating. For them maybe it was different.

* * *

The Glee club had met the day before at school and in their old choir room to decide on the numbers they'd perform. They were older and had wives and husbands and children but they still had Rachel to contend with.

She didn't even say hello. She snapped her fingers. "Song ideas, people! I love you all but I need three song ideas. And any one of you can do the solo so don't even start with me."

She was an EGOT winner but in this choir room, in this space, they only saw the tiny overbearing person she'd always been. They all smiled at her fondly as she tapped her little foot on the floor, "Now!"

"_Sing a Song_ for the group number," Matt offered.

"Hell yeah!" Sam agreed.

"Good choice. Duet?"

Mercedes said, "_'Pretty/Unpretty.'_ We never did it for other people but it's sort of my favorite we've ever done."

Rachel nodded at Mercedes' use of the word 'we' that hadn't included her at all. And smiled before saying, "I was thinking _River Deep_ for the same reason."

Finn spoke up and definitively, "We have to do _Don't Rain on My Parade _for our solo. _Pretty/Unpretty_, then you Rach and Kurt do _For Good _and then San and Mercedes can kill _River Deep. _It'll be everything everyone wants to hear and it'll be the bomb. _River Deep_ will get them going and then we'll all get to tear it up with _Sing a Song._ You guys don't get to argue with me about the solo. It's Rachel and that song or I walk."

Mercedes laughed, "Was that ever a damn question, Hudson? Ms. EGOT in da houze."

Rachel beamed at him. "See Finn? You SHOULD have been my co-captain! Your loss!"

"Totally."

"Are you okay with that, co-captain?" Rachel smiled at Mercedes.

"Any damn time I get to share a stage with you, Rachel, I'm okay. It's an honor."

Rachel actually blushed. "No. The honor is mine. But so is the work—let's go, people!"

They worked for three hours singing and re-imagining the choreography and Mr. Schue smiled and laughed the whole way through. Nothing and everything had changed.

* * *

Rachel's dads threw a barbeque that night and everyone came. The Lopez-Pierce, Cohen Chang-Chang and the Jones grandparents were having a low-key party of their own at the Jones' house, keeping babies they both were and weren't related to. The Glee party was kid-free. Quinn worried about the other party. Tons of toddlers and grandparents. Mercedes' mom had waved a hand at her. "Nothing to it—just let 'em go and wear them out first thing and they'll be on the ground sleeping by eight o'clock."

* * *

At 8:14 she tweeted.

**MsJones:RachelBarbraBerry**: Tell Quinn all these babies out for the count. I don't play #GoodTimes!

**RachelBarbraBerry: MsJones** If we're lucky we got 'em! #GoodTimes

**MsJones:RachelBarbraBerry** That's why I love you. That show was so before you were born #GoodTimes

**RachelBarbraBerry: MsJones** I know I'm lucky my children have you, too. Very #GoodTimes !

* * *

Instead of college, Finn had done two tours in the military and had gone to Iraq but had come home to Lima and had joined Burt in an auto parts' franchise that now had fifty-two locations all over Ohio. Finn was always the point man so he did the traveling. But he had finally married Jessica.

The girls had all met her in high school and had gone to parties with her. The first time Quinn had seen her, she took one look and said, "Typical." She was a tiny brunette. She wasn't all that interesting to Quinn but she supposed she was nice enough, doted on Finn's every monosyllable and thought he hung the moon. She was also wildly jealous over him. Three qualities Quinn believed were perfect for a Finn-mate. She was pregnant.

Quinn was astonished to feel, after all these years, a true and serious pang of anxiety and fury looking at her and thinking of Rachel pregnant with Finn's child. It had never left her. But she smiled and said, "When's your due date, Jessica?"

Santana heard the tone in Quinn's voice, took her hand and squeezed it before dropping it. "Yeah, when's little Finn or Finnessa joining us?"

"Mid-March! We're having a boy! Finn's so happy."

Finn smiled and put one large hand on his wife's stomach. Rachel understood the look on Quinn's face and threw an arm over her shoulder. "We're so happy for you. Sons are great. Daughters aren't half bad either, are they, sweetie?"

"Sons are amazing. Daughters? Definitely."

Even Finn understood the tone in Quinn's voice and tried to change the subject slightly. "Did you guys know Artie's wife is pregnant again? It's like an epidemic."

Santana smiled, "Seriously? Excuse us, please. Let's go look at that boy."

When they left, Jessica said, "They're trying to scare me."

Finn shook his head. "No. That's just them. They've been like that forever."

Quinn was the big movie star but Jessica felt more jealous of Rachel. Finn still loved her and she knew it. "Rachel's a phony."

Finn actually stepped back. "No. _No. _She's never been phony a second in her life. I know I'd be a little freaked if I was meeting crazy handsome star guys you used to date. I know I would. But I hope I'd be adult enough not to disrespect them when they were nothing but nice to me. They're being nice. Think about that, Jess. I'll go get you some more punch with extra ice, honey. Eric fired up the grill and I'll help him. I'll cook your steak just how you like it. Okay?"

She sighed and looked up at him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I know it's weird. But they're my friends now. Nothing to worry about, okay? Nothing except getting a little chow to little Finn. Be right back."

Kurt overheard this and smiled at David. His brother was an excellent husband and had gotten about two tablespoons of intuition as he'd matured. Which he'd watched and learned, tragically enough, was about all a guy needed with a woman who adored him.

* * *

Artie was a stockbroker based in Chicago. His wife's name was Erica. They already had a daughter and were waiting on another baby.

She said to Quinn, "We want the baby to be a surprise for us. We know it's healthy and that's all we'd led the doctor tell us. Hannah's keeping us so busy we don't even know how you guys do triplets."

Quinn was immediately happy with Erica for Artie, "We don't. They rule our world. We're just bit-players. Except for Rachel. She's still the star."

Artie said, "True dat."

Erica smiled when Brittany approached them. They'd all been introduced and everything Artie had told her about Brittany was positive. "Hi again, Erica."

She leaned down to him, "Dude, I know this grass is brutal in your chair. I got a super comfy chair set up for you for the food. Use it while you eat and I'll hit you up after, okay?"

"Five up high, exie!"

Brittany high fived him. Erica was astonished that Artie let her help him, because he'd never, ever let her help him with transfers. Brittany didn't push him to the chair. She just picked him up and carried him thirty yards.

She gently placed him in a very comfortable padded wooden lawn chair, ran and placed his chair next to it and asked, "Is this okay?"

He nodded and said, "For sure. Thanks, Britts."

"_De nada _for you." She lowered her voice to a whisper, "Sorry to ask because she's your wife and all, okay? Does Erica know to ask for your steak medium rare and cut it up for you if you're not at a table? And lots of pepper on your fries and at least five ice cubes in your Coke?"

Artie stared up at her. He'd sometimes been such an asshole with her and she remained, even ten years later, a relentless angel with him. He whispered, "She forgets sometimes about the cutting up stuff on picnic plates in my lap thing."

He'd explained to her when they dated that doing things like that—judging pressure without sensation and the ability to counterbalance—could be a complete bitch.

"That's okay. I'll do it for you." She winked at him. "I'm smart, remember?"

* * *

Santana said as they watched them, "I'm a very, very jealous dog, Erica Abrams. Understand that."

Erica didn't know what to say so she said nothing.

"Don't be jealous of them. You don't have to be. They're cool."

Erica digested that for only two seconds before asking, "Why does he let her help him? He won't let me."

Santana shrugged. "Probably because you're his woman. Britts is an ex but we grew up with him. We've been school friends forever. Think of it that way. He feels too romantically toward you to let you help him. I think it means you're his wife and she's a friend."

Erica smiled as she watched her husband talking to Brittany. "I like you, Santana."

"Right back atcha, Erica. Artie found a good woman. Not mine."

Brittany asked and Jacob ran for a tray table, asked Eric to grill Artie's steak first. She cut it up and delivered it piping hot with peppery fries and a cold, icy Coke.

Erica had put her lawn chair next to her husband's when Brittany delivered the meal. "I don't eat meat anymore so I'm having portobello mushroom burger. But I told Eric to do your steak medium, Erica, unless you run and say no."

She laughed at Sam doing a cartwheel on the lawn, "You do like medium, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"You married Artie. It's obvious. And that's not a slam."

Brittany smiled at the crowd. "It's an observation. Q and S don't eat meat anymore either. I'm sort of a medium rare girl, but they'd only let you threaten a steak with fire if they were eating one. Almost like steak tartare. They'd want blood every time. You don't seem like that sort of person. They totally are. Something to know about them. Right Artie?"

Artie nodded with vigor.

Erica smiled. She'd just been slightly threatened by Brittany and she liked her for it. "I'll remember that. I think I want my steak and Artie and I can share a portobello burger. The baby wants one, I think."

Brittany eyes widened, "Isn't that crazy how they like carjack your body and make you eat stuff?"

"Exactly. I finished off a jar of Kosher dills last week and Artie had to stop me from drinking the juice."

Brittany lifted her fist, "Pound. Q did the same thing with me. It happens."

Erica knuckle-bumped her.

Tina was Artie's significant ex but Brittany was the one who really loved him.

She was happy with that.

* * *

"Beer run!" Puck announced.

As near teetotalers, Eric and Jacob had underestimated how much people who weren't could drink.

Quinn was completely sober. Since she was sixteen, she'd limited herself to two glasses of champagne or sake. In Rachel's presence. Never, ever socially because she knew that could become a crutch for her in about five seconds.

Only in times of private celebration. She'd been drinking cranberry and soda. She knew what she knew about herself and announced, "I'll drive but you Puck—and you Sam—have to go in and buy. I can't go in a store or it'll be TMZ Perez nuts."

Sam had become a construction contractor in Oregon, of all places. He'd flown in for the reunion and looked stunningly nearly exactly the same. Except Quinn had noticed he'd kept to himself nearly the whole evening and had rather skillfully avoided her.

But when she gave the orders, they dutifully climbed in the car. Sam offered, "Greens is probably best, Q."

"Yep."

Sam was in the front seat and she asked as she drove, "Dating anyone, Sam-E?"

"No. Not for couple of years."

Puck said, "Even I know you're a hot dude, dude. Why not?"

Sam ran his hands over his jeans, "I don't know. I tried a lot at first but it never works out. Maybe it's because I like to hike and mountain bike and watch SyFy stuff and women don't like that so much or the ones I ask out don't. It's like I don't know what to do or something. I'm sure you remember that, Quinn."

She thought about that for a full minute, then pulled the car over and turned off the engine. "You were the perfect boyfriend, Sam. The problem was mine."

He began to sweat. Instantly. She still had that power. "Look at me, sweetie. I'm going to tell you something that Puck will never repeat. I have four children with him and you have to remember who and what I am and know that's true, okay?"

Sam nodded.

"I am 100% gay, Sam. Santana's 100% gay, too. Okay?"

His eyes clouded with anxiety but he nodded.

"Rachel is maybe 50% gay. Maybe. Brittany is actually probably even less than that. But they fell in love with a person. Maybe you need to look for a person to date. Not necessarily a woman."

Puck nodded, "Yeah. Seriously dude."

"Really? I'm like sending out gay vibes?"

Puck rolled his eyes because the answer had always been yes to that question but he put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "No, you're putting out you're 28 and a badass good-looking guy vibes. You deserve someone to spend some quality time with and who cares who it is? That's what Q's saying."

She nodded at him.

Sam shook his head, "Thanks guys and I hear you and seriously—thanks—but I don't think it's like that with me."

Puck leaned forward into the front seat, "Don't move asshole."

He kissed Sam for twenty seconds with true and urgent tenderness. A very, very real kiss. When he pulled away, he asked, "What do you think now?"

Sam was so embarrassed by what he knew must be obvious—his blushing and instant arousal—that he squirmed. "Okay. You might have a point."

Puck clapped him on the shoulder. "Yes! Good for you, man. That stays in the vault. And Puckasaurus just ticked one thing off his bucket list. Kiss hot blond guy!"

Quinn cackled like Santana as Sam covered his red face with his hands. Only Puck.

They sat for a few seconds waiting for Sam to speak. "Wouldn't it be lame if I started dating guys at my age?"

Quinn actually felt tears stinging her eyes because Puck wrapped his arms around Sam from the back seat. "No. What would be lame is if you married a girl if you needed a guy. Lame would be not letting yourself be happy. Be happy, man. None of the people who love you would care. We love you so love yourself. We're not saying you have to date a guy—just open your mind to it. I think lots of cool guys have probably tried to ask you out and you shot 'em down without knowing it. Open your eyes. That's all. If nothing else you get a free lunch or coffee. And that was me being really girly and that's about enough of that, okay?"

Sam laughed and said, "I'll kick your ass for free in COD tonight."

Puck smiled. "You can try. Better yet, let's kick Finn's. Cover your ears, Q. I love Finn like a brother but that dude couldn't get wood for a year if he kissed a guy. He's a pussy."

"Right?" Sam answered.

Quinn astonished them by laughing out loud. "_Please._ He couldn't get reliable wood for me ever. That's why the whole hot tub thing was ridiculous. My bad."

Sam did a double take at her, "Okay. _What_? That's just _wrong_. You could put _Kurt's_ flag up."

Puck nodded. "Right? That's like criminal or something."

"Enough but thank you and I do not need to know if you two have erections right now. I'm not even looking."

"Thanks for that, Q."

Sam nodded, "Seriously."

She started the car as she said, "Oh my God. Really?"

"Dude! We're dudes and you're the hottest women ever and you're sort of half talking about sex. Drive on Miss Daisy. We'll get over it."

Sam said, "Word."

They bought four cases of beer and no one at the party heard a word about their detour on their trip.

* * *

When they'd all finished eating steaks or mushroom burgers with onions and peppers and fries, they dived into chips and party treats, beer and wine, having fun reminiscing and dancing.

Rachel was about the cheapest drunk ever and she'd had three glasses of wine.

"No Matthew! I believe you're misunderstanding me. I can do the Dougie! Santana Lopez! Please inform Matthew of the fact I am fully proficient at the Dougie!"

Santana had been talking to Mr. Schue and lowered her head. Her drunk Little Dougie. She so fiercely loved Rachel Berry sometimes it took her breath away.

She was loyal enough to announce, "No lie. Rach can Dougie, guys."

Finn laughed and yelled, "Proof! We need proof!"

Santana went to her bag, grabbed her iPod, scrolled through it and docked it. "Let's go." She made it really loud.

Rachel proceeded to Dougie. Artie felt like he was going to hurt himself laughing but rolled out as everyone else joined her. She actually could Dougie one hell of a lot better than some of them but the sheer _idea_ of her doing it at all made everyone laugh nearly helplessly as they danced with her.

Will laughed so hard he didn't know what to do. His grown-up kids. Still them.

* * *

Sam sat with a very tipsy Rachel in his lap. Quinn and Santana were watching them. It was four glasses of wine at this point.

Sam was also a little the worse for wear. "Is winning the EGOT the best feeling ever, Rachel?"

She answered a little too readily and gently pushed his nose with an index finger, "No. Sex with Quinn is the best feeling ever and beating Santana at Scrabble a very distant second."

"That happened once!" Santana barked.

"Okay! On that note, full stop." Quinn announced. She kissed Sam on his cheek, picked Rachel up out of his lap and said to Santana, "That's it. Call it now, lefty."

Santana nodded. "Okay guys. Let's hit it. We have two shuttle buses out there for you. Home safe you guys and we'll do a shuttle for your cars tomorrow. The big fun is tomorrow night!"

Everyone immediately leapt to attention and grabbed their gear.

Brittany jumped forward, "Give her to me, Q. I'll put her upstairs."

Rachel smiled as they made the transfer and butted her head on Brittany's shoulder. "I think I'm drunk."

"I think you're right, Rach."

Rachel said very loudly, "Good night everyone!"

The party guests said their goodnights.

"Be right back San—I'll just get her to their room."

She deposited Rachel on her bed, took off her shoes and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll kiss the babies for you."

"You're going there?"

"Yeah. We're spending the night at the Jones'. San needs them."

Rachel kicked her foot in the bed, "I need them too."

Brittany smiled down at her. "I know they're your little babies. But they're San's lambs. Not being near them makes her feel sick. You know that. She feels okay and can sleep if your dads are with you and Q. She can't help being like she is."

Rachel nodded and frowned. "I hate it when you're not in the same house with us."

Brittany smiled down at her. "We hate it too. See you tomorrow. Sleep tight."

She ruffled Rachel's hair, left the room and bounced down the stairs.

* * *

"Thanks, Britts."

"No problem, Q. She's going to be snoring when you get up there. I decided you'd like to do the whole clothes off thing so good luck with that."

Santana smiled. "Gotta catch our bus. See you in the morning, cap. Eric and Jake, it was a great party!"

"Brunch at 11:30, girls."

Santana winked, "So early?" When they'd left, Quinn grabbed a trash bag and began to help Vinnie outside with the detritus of the evening as Judy helped Jake put the house in order.

* * *

Eric went up to Rachel's room and ran a hand over her head. To his surprise, she woke up. "Where am I, daddy?"

"At home, baby girl. Quinn's downstairs and she'll be up in a few minutes."

She shook her head to get clear enough to say, "I had lots of fun tonight, daddy. Thank you. Tell dad thank you too."

"I will. We did, too."

"Fun is fun, daddy." She smacked her lips over that fact and began to snore.

He looked at her and sighed. She was a married twenty-eight year old mother and she was still his tiny, precious baby. He kissed her on the forehead and went down to help the troops.

* * *

That night, Puck did tell Samantha about kissing Sam because that was only fair and she rolled her eyes, snorted and punched him lightly in the shoulder, "Another Quinntervention. Way to go, my man. He's hot. Want another beer?"

"Can we have sex instead?"

"Those are my choices, huh? Sex. Beer. Sex. Beer."

He smiled at her. He adored her. "Shut up, Sam."

"Was he a good kisser?"

"He was sort of surprised but I think he'd be really good if you gave him some time. Yeah."

"Something about that makes me veer toward sex and not beer."

He looked at her and then pointed a remonstrative finger at her. "No! No threesome!"

It was actually the farthest thing from her mind. She laughed as she whipped her shirt off and said "You spoil sport!"

His saying that made her absolutely sure her 97% straight husband had let his mind wander there but she didn't pick on him for it. She thought it was sexy. And kissed him. Boy Sam had lucked out. Puck was an excellent kisser.

**A/N It's getting so long! I'm sorry!  
**


	75. Chapter 75

**A/N: Previous disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Except for the part that it was going to be short and wasn't insanely AU. Playing with time again, folks, but not too much. This will be a chapter about the reunion and Quinn's family. **

**28 Years Old. High School Reunion**

* * *

Come as you were? Who were they supposed to be? They were still three cheerleaders and one loser. Well, Santana, supposed, Rachel deserved her new role. She was not really the most famous of them and she could play loser but she was the biggest winner of all of them. Kurt and Mercedes and Mike could play it how they liked it. Who worried her tonight were Quinn and Rachel.

They had three bodyguards with them for outside exposure when they left their car. Kurt, Mercedes, Mike and Tina were riding with security in their car. They had security inside the school. None of them except Rachel thought this was necessary.

Rachel thought it necessary for Santana's ability to even breathe at this public event unless it was obviously controlled.

Rachel had told Santana to call Vinnie for security and the only reason she gave her was that he was Italian and he would know what to do. She hadn't been kidding. Vinnie had gone full on. The men he had sent Santana were scary in a way she'd never encountered. She took one look at them and nearly collapsed in relief. She felt frighteningly safe.

The police were there. The paparazzi and the crowd had been barricaded seventy-five feet from the entrance. When they rolled up in their Range Rovers, Quinn felt literally nauseous looking at all the attention they'd brought to an event that wasn't really about them.

Before they got out of the car, Quinn snapped her fingers and with only hearing the woman's vocal intonation, Santana felt like she was sixteen again. "Squad? Tighten up. Right, left, people. One step behind me. Rachel, you're in front. You're our star. Kick it. We have you."

They got out and it seemed like most of Lima was there cheering. They dutifully waved and smiled.

Their security walked with them and would disperse and join the team inside. But entering this situation being who she'd become didn't necessarily change Rachel's feelings. What had changed was the fact that the three people behind her were hers. They lock-stepped to Quinn's orders. They were very famous people but they were still also Quinn, Santana and Brittany in uniform and just as scary in their own way as they'd ever been.

* * *

Samantha had put up with Puck shaving his hair into a Mohawk for the reunion. She'd also enjoyed watching Quinn chase her husband through her house for having without consultation after having given Little Noah the same haircut. That issue was resolved without bloodshed because, Samantha suspected, Quinn couldn't help thinking the little guy looked adorably like his father. Little Quinn and Berry had laughed and petted their brother's head all night because of the novelty of it.

* * *

Now Samantha was at this high school reunion standing next to her husband and watching Quinn, Santana, Brittany and Rachel arrive.

She whispered, "Whoa. Puckzilla. You know what? _No_. You can _not_ be serious. That's who they were in high school? I'm not even gay and I want to fuck all four of them right this second. What's even up with that crazy owl sweater? And what's up with all of those skirts, especially that argyle? Oh yeah. Quick answer. Me all up in that one in a second if I had a chance and I repeat I'm not gay. I feel for you back then, my man. And don't tell them I said so because I gotta sorta deal with them on a daily basis."

Puck nodded solemnly even as he waved at their family. "I feel you. Don't look at Rach too much because I am, too, and Q will kill us if she sees us doing it. And then Santana will kill us again on GP. But seriously, Sam, I had to look at all of them in those outfits for years."

"Dude. That was just…like…_cruel _and unusual or something."

"Right?"

* * *

It was strange. It was hyper-real. It was exactly like ten years ago. Except some people were paunchy or had lost a bit of their hair. In a sense, for Rachel it was extremely strange because she could see that fame had conferred its own social barrier. People were now afraid to talk to her for a different reason. It was so intensely uncomfortable for Rachel remembering everything, she decided instantly to make the effort to talk to people and take pictures with them. It was the very least she could do for a roomful of people who'd made her life a complete hell when she was a kid.

Quinn thought the music playing overhead sounded scarily like Mr. Schue had chosen it, which meant he inevitably had. It all looked slightly sweet and nice but it was also like walking into hell with a hangover. She saw Rachel doing the meet and greet and imagined herself on the rope line except with people she did know and many of whom hated her for good reason. And she them, for that matter. Just another form of penance. High school reunion! She smiled and began to work the room, greeting every person there.

Santana kept her eyes on Rachel and Quinn. Brittany would be fine here. 11th Commandment. Rachel looked okay. Rachel was the mega EGOT and Quinn was the movie star but she, Santana, was actually sort of the biggest rock star in the family. She took one look at Quinn's face, which was so shiny and pretty that it had to mean she was frightened and appalled and nearly red zone. Santana rushed to join her and didn't leave her side as they worked the room.

* * *

Jacob ben Israel smiled at Rachel. He had short hair and had filled out into a relatively fit yet still nerdy-looking man. He held out his hand and Rachel shook it. "I'm so happy for your success, Rachel. I've been so proud watching you. I need to tell you that I'm very sorry too."

"For what Jacob?"

"I was a jerk with you in high school and I'm sorry. I was so glad when I heard you were coming to this so I could say that in person."

She smiled at him and ran her hand over his left arm, "We were children, Jacob. These things happen, to me admittedly more than most but no worries. I'm so happy to see you!"

"Really?"

"Of course! I know you can't help but know what I've been up to. What have you been up to?"

"I own a software company that primarily does things for pharmaceutical companies so they can distribute drugs more easily and cheaply in Africa and Asia. You wouldn't believe it's true but bad software can be a kind of layer of bureaucracy that holds things up. It's a niche market but my company works to remove it. I'm married to a woman named Amy and I met her in college and she's getting more punch as we speak. I have a son named Efraim and a daughter named Naomi."

That was a very nearly a Berry answer and she laughed and clapped him on his shoulder. "That's so wonderful! I'm so proud of you, Jacob! I want a link to your company's website. I'll read about it. Do you have your phone so I can see pictures?"

He did and scrolled through and showed her pictures of his children and wife, who was adorable.

"Oh my God! Your wife is a jewel and your babies are precious! I'm so happy for you, Jacob. What's your number?"

He told her and she punched it in. "Here—sending you a text now so you have mine."

He looked at her and felt like he was going to die. She was being so nice to him and she didn't have to be and he knew it. "This will sound weird but can I ask you a question?"

She braced herself for anything, "Of course."

"Can I follow you on Twitter? I didn't want to approach you at all online until I'd seen you again in person and you could see I wasn't the same guy I used to be. I knew that would be inappropriate."

She sighed with relief. She saw nothing in his eyes that she'd seen in school. He'd grown up and away from her. Thank God. Which meant they could be friends. "Are you kidding? Absolutely. I'll follow right back. Let's do it now. What's your name on Twitter?"

"My name. Little b, cap I "

**RachelBarbraBerry: JacobbenIsrael** Wassup?

**JacobbenIsrael: RachelBarbraBerry:** I'm thirsty!

**RachelBarbraBerry: JacobbenIsraell:** Peeps we are right next to each other about to have some punch when his wife brings it! I'm bogarting his! #highschoolreunion

**JacobbenIsraell: RachelBarbraBerry: **One of the best nights of my life! #highschoolreunion

"I think I see your wife coming with your much needed beverage."

"I know you have two cups in your hand and can't shake my hand. Hi, Amy. I'm Rachel Berry. It's so nice to meet you. Would you mind ditching the punch and taking a picture of me with your husband?"

Amy put the punch on the table next to them and Rachel gave Amy her phone. She smiled next to him as Amy took the picture.

"Thank you so much. Jacob showed me pictures of your children. They are completely amazing!"

Amy was a little overwhelmed meeting this first very famous person of many in the room but ginned up the courage to say, "Thank you. You have three children, don't you?"

"We do. Two boys and a girl and Jacob, let me show you my little girl. I think she'll make you laugh."

She scrolled through her camera and showed Jacob a picture of Berry.

He looked at the picture and forced himself not to cry. It was Rachel. Again. He said to his wife, "She's beautiful, isn't she, honey?"

"She is. She looks exactly like you, Rachel. Even a little scarily exactly like you."

"I know. Poor kid. I'm a very domineering person as Jacob could tell you and evidently that's in my genes."

She scrolled through her camera and pointed at an image. "These guys are Noah Jr. and Little Quinn. Even at two, Noah is alarmingly like his father already and Quinn is a Brittany/Quinn mix which Jacob could tell you is strange."

"Entirely," Jacob said, slightly beside himself. Star EGOT Rachel was treating him like a friend he'd never been or had. He said, "Amy? Please take a picture of me and Rachel."

Amy took his phone. Rachel put her arm around Jacob and kissed him on the cheek as Amy took the picture. And then just smiled next to him. Another picture.

They talked for a few more minutes and very pleasantly and she excused herself after saying to Amy, "Jacob has my number now so that we can all keep in touch. Maybe sometime when we're in town and we do come to Lima more than you might think or know, all our babies can have play-dates together, okay? And also Tina and Mike's babies because those guys almost always travel with us. Family first. It'll be a tribe of toddlers and we'll need all of us to wrangle them!"

Amy was completely charmed, "Absolutely."

Absolutely, Jacob thought. Rachel Berry had sweetly and willingly kissed him on the cheek. Had been so nice to him and his wife. He was not surprised this no longer had the power make him feel aroused. He had grown up and his wife was his love. It did have the power, however, to make him cry. Which he briefly excused himself from his wife to do in the boy's bathroom.

* * *

Kurt was slightly discombobulated by the reunion. He wasn't as famous as his friends but he was famous. He watched Rachel work the room. She had been such a leper in school and she acted, as always, as if that hadn't been true. He watched Brittany being Brittany, sweet and perfect. He watched Quinn do what she'd trained herself to do, smiling and talking to everyone and making nice. He knew it was the very last thing she actually felt. He had flashes about Quinn sometimes and this was one of them. What would it be to come back here for her? Maybe about as bad as for him, actually.

He knew that might be true because Santana was obviously so worried about Quinn she was hovering and nearly glued to her. Mercedes, typically, was having a fantastic time. She liked being famous. He did, too. But he didn't know how he felt about it here. David was with him but felt his discomfiture and let him find his place. Kurt knew he should interact and it was on him and not others to approach him because they were giving him famous person distance.

Being here was like remembering something as terrible and violent as a car crash. He hadn't known dressing as he had back then and walking into this school which still even _smelled_ the same could make him feel so small. He looked for Rachel again. She had to feel, having gone through so much more than every one of them, the same way in this place. And she might have been but she was smiling. Star face. That face still made him smile and gave him courage. Kurt had borrowed courage from her for years. He took a deep breath and worked the room.

* * *

Finn knew Jessica was more nervous than he was as he put on his letterman jacket and smiled at her.

He was slightly weirded out. It was the same and not and he knew it as he walked into the school. Big man on campus and it was so different because he was not at all big compared to many of the women and guys in his class who had taken over the world like Godzilla or something.

He felt oddly crushed with relief as Santana immediately skipped up to them and said, "I've been looking for you guys!"

She hugged Jessica. She hugged Finn and said "Don't worry, Hudson. It'll feel just like you think it will. Surreal and sweet and strangely boring and I just know Mr. Schue did this fucking soundtrack of lame shit playing overhead."

She raised her pimp hand, "I didn't want to have to cut him after all this time and I guess I won't because that would be rude, right? But damn. That said, I paid the reunion committee to get us killer food and drink so go get it. Can't wait to burn on _Sing a Song_ with you, boy-o. Jessica—your man got game. See you guys later and seriously—eat and drink up. But Finn? Not too much of the serious bev before you have to dance, okay?"

She raised both hands. "Just sayin'. Got to gets back to my cap. See ya."

She winked at him and twirled her cheer skirt for him, which Finn very much appreciated, as she left.

Finn felt immediately grounded in a way he knew that Jessica could never understand. Santana in her cheerleader outfit saying basically the same mean stuff she always said to him made him feel like the night would be okay. The fact she'd sought him out and even cared enough to do it made him feel almost like crying.

* * *

Mike and Matt stuck together. They weren't talkers. They sat closely next to each other and drank really delicious power punch as their wives mixed. Rachel came over to them and sat in Matt's lap and put her legs over Mike's. And sighed. Very deeply. They both knew why. Matt held her and kissed her on her temple. She talked with them for ten minutes and then rejoined the fray.

* * *

"Artie?"

"Quinn?"

"Is this party as weird as I think it is?"

He smiled up at her and at Santana, who was right beside her. "It's WMHS, Quinn. What could we expect?"

Brittany joined them. "Guys, would it be bad if I ate like nearly all of those stuffed mushrooms at the buffet? l mean I know other people would like some so would that be bad?"

Santana laughed, "Eat 'em baby. I bought. Cut these bitches out. If they aren't smart enough to get what they want before my racehorse needs chow, their bad, not yours."

Artie said, "Score a few for me though."

"Will do." Brittany happily race-walked to the buffet line.

Santana and Brittany had both become vegetarians for Rachel but not vegans because Rachel had sent them to a doctor who specialized in nutrition. After testing for four weeks on a vegan diet, his strong suggestion was that Brittany's level of athleticism required more protein than a vegan diet could ever reasonably supply. Santana dropped weight instantly and dangerously, no matter what the doctor suggested. So no vegan for them. They were vegetarians for Rachel. She hadn't asked them to do it but they had. But they were always slightly hungry. The kids were vegetarian until they grew up enough to want a damn Happy Meal like everyone else. Santana couldn't wait.

* * *

Santana split off from Quinn for a minute to talk with Tina. Which was sort of a hi-hi sort of thing for minute or two. All of them often lived in the same cities but rarely interacted socially.

"Me and Ryk have been writing songs for you, T."

Tina did the same double take Mercedes had, "What?"

Santana shrugged. "Oh yeah. We'll call you. You need a little spotlight yourself, my beautiful Asian princess." She kissed her on the cheek."You might not get it tonight but believe me you will."

* * *

After the food and ninety minutes of mixing, Rachel took a mic and looked at Ryk who smiled at her. He snapped his fingers and their old band, who'd known the cue time jumped into place. Ryk stopped the canned music and he and the band started the music, which electrified the room.

Rachel smiled and sang as she walked with complete authority through the room, "Don't tell me not to live, Just sit and putter, Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter. Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade."

She continued as she marched up the stairs to a stage she knew more intimately than any of her classmates ever would because it had mattered so much more to her than any of them. She'd been on Broadway but this stage still mattered.

She once again sang "William McKinley, here I am…!"

The Glee Club marched up and stood beside her.

She destroyed the song and the room went wild. She bowed and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, New Directions."

Her Glee Club all bowed to Rachel and left the stage, except for Quinn, who had her own mic and said, "You guys, I don't really sing."

Rachel smiled, took her hand and said, almost shyly, "Yes you do, Quinn. You will with me."

She continued to hold her hand as they sang _Pretty/Unpretty_ to each other.

The school had never seen them sing a duet and the meaning of it was not lost on any of them. Their classmates remembered exactly who they'd once been to each other and even to them.

They applauded them heartily and Quinn smiled and kissed Rachel's cheek before announcing, "And now the person whose voice I personally adore hearing more than anyone else with Rachel's. Kurt Hummel."

He waved as he took the stage and took Rachel's hand. They sang _For Good_ and smiled at each other and got through it together because, in this venue, with these people, it meant something very, very poignant and sad to them both.

When they'd finished Rachel kissed him on the lips and announced to the crowd, "Now, for the real stars of the show. Santana Lopez and Mercedes Jones."

Santana walked onstage with Mercedes and her mic, "Don't even with me, Rachel Barbra. You and Q and Kurt just kicked major ass." Santana looked at Mercedes as they hit their marks, "Feel like kicking some more, Chocolate?"

Mercedes lifted her hand and Santana popped it. "Hit it Ryk."

They sang _River Deep_ to uproarious laughing applause all the way through because Santana and Mercedes couldn't resist hamming it up.

When the whole club sang _Sing a Song_, Jessica was thrilled to see her husband onstage. Samantha not so much so. Puck sang to her all the time. They were standing next to each other. When the song was over, Jessica said, "They're all so good!"

"Yes. Yes they are."

* * *

Backstage, Lauren Zizes crossed the room and hugged Quinn, who accepted it but was bewildered when she said, "I wanna say I could have been less of a bitch with you way back when. I'm sorry Quinn. I sort of tried but I had to grow up."

Quinn shook her head. "What? I was the bitch, Lauren. Not you."

"It was sort of a bitch-off, then. I always thought I won."

"Okay. Yeah, you sort of did. And thank you for beating Santana up that time, by the way."

Santana had joined them, "The fuck?"

"No seriously, Lauren. I couldn't do it. I always fought her to a draw."

Lauren looked at Santana, a person she secretly completely adored and Quinn, a person she actually completely respected.

She smiled. "Size matters, girlfriends. You girly girls don't need it but I know what boys like."

Puck had joined them and pointed both index fingers at Lauren. "That! Right there!"

Lauren smirked at him. He was her first real love. "Never change, ass."

He pointed at his hair and winked, "Not a chance, beautiful."

* * *

Will met them backstage and took a deep breath. "I am so proud of you guys. Every one of you."

He chuckled as he said, "And, yes, some of you have been nearly obnoxious gaining fame and fortune but that isn't what matters. Every one of you have happy, healthy lives. I'm so proud of you. So proud. You're my first real Glee Club and we all shared fun times and got through some tough times and I really can't express how much I love you so I'll just say I love you. Thank you for being this teacher's biggest dream come true."

He threw his hands in the air because he was beginning to cry. "See? Ten years later and you still have that power, guys. If you ever need me, call me and I'll run to any one of you. Keep in touch with me. I will never forget any of you and I will always, always love you."

Rachel immediately leapt up, ran to him and hugged him. He held her and put a hand on her head. His star.

* * *

Samantha and Sam were drinking heavily aided punch. "You guys were great."

"Thanks. It's great to get to have fun with these guys again. And you know, Rachel, wow."

"She's something else."

"Absolutely."

There was a long, heavy silence.

"Dude, I know Puck kissed you, alright? You're acting all weird and formal. I'm completely okay with that. Okay?"

Sam's shoulders fell in relief, "Really?"

"Of course. But just so you know, no three-way. He said no."

Sam nodded. Then added, because she was so cool and so pretty, "Just so you know, that's sort of a bummer."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "I sort of agree."

Sam snorted and thought that Puck had bagged himself maybe the best wife ever.

Brittany joined them and said, "Did I hear three-way? Because I can't do that anymore with Puck, Girl Sam."

"I know. It's cool, Britts. I was saying we don't do that either."

"Even if you don't really want to do it, it sort of sucks to know you absolutely can't, right? It's like when I was pregnant and wanted to eat dirt. Q told me I couldn't. And who really wants to eat dirt anyway? Still. It was such a buzzkill. But life goes on, right?" Brittany looked at the dissipating crowd, "Obvs. Look around at everyone here."

Sam and Samantha nodded and thought they could not love Brittany more.

* * *

For every one of them, their high school reunion had been exactly what any reunion was. Fun and sad and fun and strange.

**31 Years Old**

Judy and Vinnie opened their door to a ferocious pounding. Judy hadn't seen or heard from Antoinette in 15 years. She was painfully thin and had a black eye.

Judy said, "Oh my God. Baby. Come here." She enveloped her in a hug.

Toni cried in her arms and Vinnie sighed. He knew the deal. When you'd fucked up majestically and needed a last chance? Come home, where your mother would be a sucker for you.

Judy called Quinn when she'd put Toni in their guestroom and the woman had fallen asleep.

Quinn listened and her voice hardened, "Fine. I can't come now and you know I can't because I have to work for the next five weeks but I'll call Irena. Wake that bitch up tomorrow and tell her I have a friend who needs to talk. Irena will tell us what we need to know."

Judy accepted this. She knew Vinnie was dubious but she couldn't throw another child on the street. It felt incredibly heartening to know her younger daughter had her back.

Irena Sokoll listened to Quinn's rant over the phone and said, "It is nothing, Quinn Fabray. I will decide whether this person can be saved or must be deported. I have met your mother's Vincent. He is not a romantic in exactly the way I am not. I know he will assist me with removing her if need be. Not that I believe I need assistance. It is always better if family members do not say what is very hard to hear. I find that makes the despised bearer of hard truth someone you never have to deal with again if you do not wish to and you can pretend you came to a conclusion yourself and save face. People are astonishingly dishonest with themselves. But you know this. I know you do not like me but I like you because are honest with yourself."

"Thank you, Ms. Sokoll."

"_De nada, _as our scamp would say."

Quinn felt an immeasurable weight fall from her knowing Irena would help her mother with Toni. The woman was right. She still didn't like her but she respected her right down to the ground.

* * *

Quinn had sent everything their father had left her in his will to Toni as soon as she'd been given it. The check had been cashed quickly. With no acknowledgment. That had been years ago and still. Nothing.

Quinn called the next day and said, "This is how it'll go, Antoinette. You don't get to fuck with my mother. Not your mother—mine. Being a child means paying attention to your parent."

"Like you paid attention to dad?"

"Oh wait. Right. Who was at his hospital bedside, court-date and funeral? Not you. I was."

"I'm sending someone to see you. You will hate her. She will be a complete bitch with you but she will be right. Every word that comes out of her mouth will make you want to slap her. I promise you that but she will be right. She's weird and old and Russian and you will want to kill her but she will be completely right. She was right about me and all of my people. All of them. Every one. Listen up and don't think you can throw her attitude. Seriously. Think twice."

Irena Sokoll came to the Fabray house the next day. She was 88 years old.

She affected using her cane. She still didn't need it at all.

She hugged Judy, smiled at Vinnie and gave a quick glance at Toni. "So. As people say. A chicken comes home to roost."

She rested her hands on her cane and looked at Antoinette. "I came here because Quinn Fabray asked me to. You must understand that Quinn does not like me, Antoinette. She accepts me as a part of her life but she wants to strangle me every minute we spend in the same space. However, she does respect me. I owe a debt to her for a lifetime of helping take care of my greatest love and so I have always been kind to her in my way."

She waved a hand at Judy. "Give your glowering daughter a beverage. I require only water."

They gave them their drinks and Irena and Toni walked downstairs. Judy had, on Quinn's and Vinnie's strong suggestion which was actually a demand, made it a condition of Toni's crashing with them that she spoke to Irena. It hadn't gone well when Judy had told Toni this but Vinnie had stood his ground.

Irena sat and looked at her silently and for so long that Toni began to fidget in her chair.

"You are jealous of your sister and so you act this way."

"See! You're on her side. I KNEW this would be the sort of shit you'd serve me."

"Close your mouth, child. You're an adult but still a child. You don't deserve to talk to me that way. I am your better for every reason under the sun. Your sister is prettier than you are and you are angry. How long has that been true? You are what? 37 years? Still angry about a nursery reason?"

"Fuck off. I hate you already." Time and circumstances had eradicated Toni's etiquette completely.

"I do not care. Better people and far more terrifying people than you have hated me. Your sister for one. She has tried to find a way to be good. I've watched her half her life working to be a better human. What have you done?"

Toni looked like she was going to explode. "You don't know ANYTHING, bitch!"

"I know Quinn is a married and successful professional person with a very loving family and I know you are an unmarried, unemployed woman who was hit by a person and I would say, looking at you, a man you invited into your life for the most obvious reason imaginable. I know what your father did to Quinn. I know that he acted the villain with Rachel Berry and I explained to him the error of his ways with my cane. I know you've shown up on your mother's doorstep at age 37 expecting to receive love and shelter after 15 years of ignoring her need for the love she deserved from her child. I know she extends it to you when she should shun you and you must know that is because she feels guilty about treating Quinn badly."

Irena waved her cane. "Which makes you, yet again, jealous of Quinn. You do not have to tell me what you are. I know with one look in your eyes. You are a resentful, jealous and spiteful parasite. It will take tremendous work not to be that person and I'm not certain that you are capable of it. But you will have to try if Judy or Quinn keep you in their lives. I am involved now. Vincent is not, as you Americans say, a pushover and your late father might have told you if you'd spoken to him I am even a less easier person to deal with either."

"Yeah! About that? You're a bitch for hitting him!"

"Said the daughter who did not see him nearly kill a child and did not visit him in hospital or attend his funeral."

Irena moved forward in her chair and Toni moved back instinctively. "I know these things because I talk to your mother. As you have not for fifteen years. I know what is next before you speak. A diatribe about Quinn."

She waved her hand, "You do not see your sister at all. You color her and your life with your jealousy. She is the unhappiest soul beside myself I have ever met. I am 88 years old. I am, in my way, very famous. I have traveled the world and met thousands of people. She is the saddest person I have ever met. She will never be truly carefree and on your saddest day I can tell you that you are happier than she has ever been.

I feel heartsick looking at her because it feels like looking at a more tragically injured me. I have, to be honest, been hurt far more physically and many, many more times than she has been but it has not mattered. Life has hurt her more. Some people are almost too sensitive to live. That is truth. I think you believe your sister is some beautiful rock but I assure you everything about life hurts her. Everything. As it does not hurt you."

She rested her hands on her cane. "I have never looked into my eyes in the mirror and seen anything but a sincere regret for existing at all because I feel so undeserving of breathing. I know she feels this, too. But she wakes up and she tries. For herself and everyone around her. As I do in my way. I look in your eyes and see you are not sad and I know you do not try."

She paused and sighed. "Quinn has told me one thing about you. You are angry because you needed and wanted your father's attention and she knows her being born took it away from you. She said that was not fair to you and that it hurt you and she was very sorry. Perhaps you will never understand that was completely his fault and not hers. Your father liked the idea of her and the world looks at her for very similar reasons. She cannot change that and it is deeply painful to her. Look at yourself in the mirror tonight, Antoinette. You, too, are a very beautiful woman. But you are malnourished and I can see you are an alcoholic. You are an adult and you cannot even take care of yourself. You are still a very young woman and your anger is already killing you. Look in the mirror and know that."

"Fuck you."

Irena saw absolutely nothing but a nearly wild bitterness and fury in Toni's eyes. There was nothing else there. Nothing she had said had touched the woman at all. Irena had hit Quinn with hard words at the age of 16 and received an immediate response. Quinn was reactive. She was a violently insecure, defensive and sad person. She was also an incredibly warm and loving child who was desperately fighting for her life. It was there in her eyes. This one? This adult? There was only coldness. And anger. Which told Irena everything.

"As for, as you delicately put it, the fucking, I believe I am too old for you, Antoinette. And you are not, as people say, my type. If you are addicted to alcohol as I believe you are, it can be truly medically dangerous to quit by yourself and you need medical attention, which I know your mother or Quinn or even I will pay for."

"You need to drink three cans of anything like Ensure and try to eat two meals per day and work up to three so that you will feel better. That will be very difficult for you because it will feel too much but you are truly malnourished and it is not easy to feel better emotionally when you are physically ill."

"Yeah. Thanks for that. Fuck you."

Irena took a deep breath and smiled. "Say that one more time and you will discover what I am. I am your elder and better, Antoinette. As I have said, Quinn nearly hates me but she treats me with respect. She's more interesting when she's being mean to me and yet she's oddly more polite than you are. Another reason to hate her, correct?"

"Fuck you."

Irena moved with a frightening and lightning speed across the distance between them and whipped her cane up to Toni's cheek, which made the younger woman flinch wildly away from her. Irena very lightly tapped her cheek with the cane with a smile.

"I am 88 years old. Still, I could destroy you. Say those words to me exactly one more time and I will. I don't enjoy words like that from a nothing like you and I am beginning to believe you're sadly deserving of exactly the same treatment I gave your father. I could easily put you in the hospital or in a morgue. I know exactly what pressure I'd need to exert against your body for either outcome. You might not imagine I am telling the truth."

She shrugged, "As you younger people say? Try me. Say those words again and you will learn, Antoinette. I am not like anyone you have ever met, not even your last abusive man. Unlike him, I would never say 'I'm sorry' the next day. Because I would not be. I would be happy. I broke your father's face and jaw very badly and I am still to this day happy I did it. I could easily break your face or even your neck. Say fuck you one more time to me and you will give me the reason I will happily do so."

Toni glared up into Irena's eyes but didn't say a word. She was truly very frightened.

Irena smiled down at her fright. "Yes. How obvious of you. Exactly as I thought. Because I know your sister as you do not, I can tell you Quinn would be brave enough and obstinate enough to take a beating from me for the principle of the thing if I truly pushed her like I just pushed you. She is no coward. You are. She is a better person than you for one thousand other reasons than she's prettier than you are. Which she also happens to be. Goodbye, Antoinette."

* * *

Irena left Toni sitting downstairs and walked upstairs for the verdict she was miserably sad to give.

Vinnie and Judy were drinking seltzer water. Judy drank, as Quinn did, only when there was something to celebrate.

Irena looked into Judy's eyes, which were so hopeful that it broke her heart.

She said, "May we talk outside?"

Judy and Vinnie followed her outside.

"I will say this plainly and bluntly and I know it will be painful. No, Judy. Two weeks of nutrition for that one and find a place for her to stay that isn't here. She will poison your life. I promise you, no. That one will find her level and it will be a sad and low one and she will reach out to you again and again. If you feel a parental necessity, give her money or talk with her but do not give her _you_. It is what she will take if let her live with you."

She shook her head, "I know that Quinn will pay for her upkeep to keep her away. I would pay if Quinn wouldn't."

Judy was astonished to see tears welling in Irena's eyes as the woman took her hand. "You cannot help Antoinette, Judy. You cannot. You—very particularly you—as her mother—cannot help her. She is an emotional vampire and you are exactly what she will feed on first when she is hungry. She is very nearly a sociopath. And why do I imagine I can say that when I am no psychologist and she said almost nothing to me? I am very old and I have known so many more kinds of people than you have, Judy."

"Antoinette is hungry now but it's not for true human sympathy. Or empathy. She is hungry for something like your blood in a way. She needs somewhere to stay and wants a small idea of a warmth she doesn't have and can't truly feel. That is tragic but it is true. She is one of the coldest persons I have ever met. I come from terrible times in my country as you know. I have known people who killed others for a living with warmer eyes than she has. I have been raped by men with warmer eyes than she has."

She waved her cane, "I know you must see that and are trying not to. And I know how horrible that must sound to a mother but it is true. It is also true I was not nice to Antoinette but she can not even defend herself rationally. Even when Quinn wanted to murder me the first time I met her, I could see she understood why. I could see the higher brain function behind the emotion in her eyes. With that one? Nothing but dead, flat anger and incomprehension."

"I would do anything for her if Quinn asked me and it were possible. I truly don't believe it is. Antoinette is an emotional vacuum you can never fill. Feed her real food and then you must move her away from you. No more than two weeks. I tell you that with the deepest sadness I can express but I am telling you I know this is what you must do. I never say please as a supplicant but I will this one time. Please do this for me."

She looked at Vinnie. "Vincent. Two weeks. She will devour your wife. We both know such people exist. If you need my help making her go away, physically or financially, do not hesitate to call me. She's a very specific poison for a mother who does not need to feel guilty anymore and still does."

She took both of Judy's hands. "You did not make that one the way she is, Judy. You made Quinn. Look at her. You can feel sad and guilty for Quinn and I know why more than you could imagine. Antoinette is a fluke of nature and a very bad one. I am so sorry to tell you that but it is true. I think you know it. You can not keep her. It will hurt you and it will never help her. She is a person an intervention will not help. She will have to help herself and she very probably never will.

If you keep her, one day she will walk out of your house with her next abusive man and laugh. She will not think of you at all when she goes. But she will have drained your life's blood. I know this. You and your husband do not deserve this. You deserve peace in this part of your life. She will not give it—she will take it and then discard you. I know this is true. Vincent. She has to leave. If you have guns in this house and I believe you do from your reputation, you must lock them away from that one. I say this because I know what she is and I am sorry to have to say so."

Vinnie nodded at her. "Yes and yes and done deal. Thanks, Irena. I appreciate your coming to help."

"You are welcome and I am very sorry, Judy."

Judy watched as Irena walked to her car. Quinn had said nearly the same thing to her mother as she had to Toni. That she would hate hearing what Irena said but it would be true. As a mother, her idea of Toni was one thing. The reality of her daughter was another. Toni had reappeared but she really was—or her idea of who she might have been—truly gone forever.

Vinnie looked at his wife and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry baby but Toni's out the door in two weeks. Let's feed her up while we have her and we'll get a new place for her to stay."

* * *

When Judy called Quinn an hour later, she was crying. Quinn went into the FOS for two hours.

She hated Toni in a very specific way she knew meant that she'd always desperately wanted her big sister to love her. She never had. Never would. Just like their father.

Rachel didn't even knock. She opened the door and made a zipping motion over her lips. She knew it was against the rules to be there but she closed the door and gently placed herself on Quinn's prostrate form on her couch. She wrapped her arms around the smaller woman. Rachel kissed her on the cheek and in five minutes began to snore.

That made Quinn feel so…peaceful she could find no other word to describe it. Toni was really gone but she had to be dealt with and that hurt her but she had a new family. Her snoring renegade-FOS rules-busting nap princess was good enough for her.

* * *

Two weeks later, Quinn had put a one-year lease on a truly deluxe apartment in Lima for Toni. She'd bought her a car and placed an outrageous amount of money on gift cards at their closest and largest local grocery store and the closest local gas station and one hell of a lot of money on a pay-as-you-go Visa card. And had said good luck.

She did this to give her mother the ability to feel okay kicking the trash to the curb and knowing Toni would live in her new place, drive her new car and use her gift cards and Visa and hate her every single second she did so.

Judy hadn't heard from Toni once she'd left her home. She knew she would eventually if the cards ran out or Toni ended up in the hospital or jail. Both Judy and Quinn knew Toni would think this meant _Quinn _was the bad person.

* * *

What Judy didn't know was that Vinnie would have called Irena if Quinn hadn't.

Vinnie had his Guys Night out every two weeks. He never came home all that late or drunk at all but he came home smelling of cigar smoke. He never brought these guys home but did say they played cards.

Judy didn't push for details. She decided if she could go to her book club and brunch club two times a month with her friends without his asking anything but, 'Did you have fun,' that was fair. As a couple they did actually, after the shock of her having married him of all people had settled, often socialize with her friends.

Vinnie was an amazingly loving, thoughtful and even doting husband. But for such a delightful man, he didn't have any friends or family he spoke of or had introduced her too. Something about this and his glossing over his childhood without any detail, told her that his vague joking insinuations of having been at some point very related to organized crime might actually be true. When she tried to broach the subject he laughed and lovingly changed it.

She could not believe he was a criminal now. He worked at his drive-in, made a decent but not a sinister-seeming amount of money, never drank more than two drinks, cut both of their elderly neighbors' lawns with a push mower. He was always the first to offer to help man the grill at her friends' barbecues and was home after work as promptly and as predictably as the sun came up in the morning. She'd decided she was satisfied with not knowing.

But she did wonder about these guys he spent time with on Guys Night.

* * *

Guys Night was held at Vinnie's Drive-In, in his little place over the concession stand. The guys were Vinnie and Irena Sokoll and Sue Sylvester. They kept this fact a dread and very dark secret and pretended in public that they were mere passing acquaintances. They never called each other except to confirm or met anywhere else. On Guys Night, they all smoked cigars, drank perhaps a glass of wine or beer or two first, then seltzer water. They played Hearts for hours laughing at each other.

They had tried poker for a while at the beginning of Guys Night but the fact they all had perfect poker faces made the game tedious. They had settled on Hearts because it could be a hilariously cutthroat game where you could laugh at an opponent and gloat again and again during even one hand. All of them were deeply pleased with this aspect of it. They crowed mercilessly over their individual victories.

Everything about Guys Night they considered to be in a Fort Knox vault. So they told stories and spilled all their secrets as they played because this was a place where they could all laugh and call bullshit. And they did this like guys because it was Guys' Night. Fully knowing maybe half or more of even the most outlandish bullshit they uttered might actually be true. That was the fun of it.

Vinnie considered Sue the bullshit queen of all time and watched and listened as Irena inevitably and relentlessly called Sue on it, which made the two women invariably bicker like a nearly very happily married couple. The two played off each other effortlessly like a double act who'd been practicing for years.

He always laughed until he cried after even fifteen minutes into spending time with them. He tried to one-up them occasionally but it was very hard. Guys Night was something he truly cherished. As a child of Cosa Nostra, he knew from danger and although his father had ended that part of life for him, he still had a slight affinity for the adrenaline rush of it. This was the only way he fed that now.

Non-stop comedy night playing cutthroat cards with a very old Russian woman who was very truly and scarily dangerous and a woman who was truly crazy, crazily funny and probably could be dangerous. The women enjoyed Guys Night, too. Irena said that mixing it up with them kept her youthful and Sue said it was not unlike her nights spent with rebels in a militant camp in Kosovo.

* * *

**A/N I hope you enjoyed it. **


	76. Chapter 76

**A/N: Previous disclaimers from Chapter One apply. It's wildly AU at this point. **

**This is a short and complete throwaway chapter. A quick Zac/Quinn adventure. And why? I don't know. It just occured to me.  
**

**Age 29**

Zac and Quinn had been working on their third movie together. The public adored them together as a movie couple and, outside her family and the Glee people, Zac and Valerie were the only friends she'd kept. Time and feeling her foundation with Rachel and their family was solid made doing remote location shootings possible at this point.

It never mitigated the pain of being away from her girl and her family. Santana and Brittany always stayed very close to Rachel while she was gone. As did Puck and Sam. They did this for her sense of security and she knew it. The fact they didn't really trust her to trust Rachel wasn't exactly lost on her. She trusted Rachel completely. Rachel trusted her. The others still didn't trust Quinn not to act out in jealous anxiety. That meant so many things about their perception of the person she'd once been that she never talked about it.

* * *

Zac and Quinn were in England in the Yorkshire Dales.

They had two blessed days off and Zac was driving them in the late afternoon through the rugged wildly beautiful and desolate countryside for a look-about. He had to drive because she told him if these English people didn't know what side of the road to drive on, she didn't trust herself not to show them.

They were maneuvering down a narrow road and as they were passing what was obviously a farm, they met an obstacle. A herd of sheep in the road and a very old man who was weeping at the side of it.

"Stop the car, Zac."

He did and jumped out after her after she jumped out and rushed to the man, saying "What's wrong, sir?"

He looked at her, very startled because he obviously recognized her but told her the truth of his feelings, as some people tell complete strangers things they wouldn't tell even their friends, especially in grief. "My poor good sheepdog died. I woke up this morning and she was dead in her basket. It is too much to bear. Too much. My wife Annie died three months ago after fifty-two years of us wed and now this. But what can I do? I have to tend my sheep."

Quinn shook her head violently because that hurt her to her bones, for herself and Santana. "Of course you do. I understand. We'll help. My name's Quinn and he's Zac."

"My name is Jock. I know who you are."

She looked at a large enclosure with an open gate maybe fifty yards and to the left side of the road. "Jock, is that where you need them to go and can't get them to because you don't have your dog?"

He nodded and wiped his eyes.

"Okay." She assessed the situation. She channeled her own spectacular knowledge of herd behavior and her inner Santana and knew how she'd have to do it.

"Jock—you stay behind on the left and Zac, you stay behind in the middle to gently herd them forward. Very gently. I'll play the dog on the right. Jock, I know you're an older English gentleman and I'm a lady and I apologize and I promise what you're about to hear is not how I usually talk. I can't explain the reasons but I'll have to curse and almost crazily to put them in that pen. But I can and will do it."

He felt instantly assured by her complete assurance and said, "Turn the air blue."

She smiled and gave a piercing whistle which all of the sheep reacted to. She shouted at them. "Okay bitches! Who's in charge? Time to get in that pen!"

She was wearing a sweatshirt, jeans and boots. Zac knew Quinn was actually a truly impressive athlete but Jock knew her only as a pretty movie star. To Jock's immense surprise she ran at them swiftly enough to scare them and stutter-stepped cross-wise and ran at them again, and to his eyes looked exactly as best a human could trying to act like a border collie.

She darted at them so quickly and forcefully and chewed off her words so loudly and succinctly that she pushed the flight button in their instinctive herd mentality. They all moved away from her.

"If you THINK (rushing forward) you fuckers aren't (rushing sideways) getting in that fucking pen you don't know what TV show you're watching! Get going, bitches!"

They started to move more quickly and Jock and Zac followed to herd them from behind. One sheep decided to go rogue. Jock and Zac were amazed at the speed and even the strength it took for a woman to catch it and grab it by its wool and quickly but gently toss it back into the herd where it landed on it feet. She kept darting at them.

"See that, bitches? That's what I'm talking about, motherfuckers! If you act the fool with me, Jock won't even have to shear you because I will hold you down and pull all your fucking wool off with my bare hands! Every last one of you! And I am _not_ kidding! Try me!"

Zac had begun to laugh hysterically and looked at Jock, who began to laugh as well.

She ignored them and dodged and darted and loudly continued her diatribe against the sheep for the ten minutes it took to drive them into the pen and lock the gate. She was sweating profusely and looked from Zac and Jock in triumph and then looked back at one particular sheep. She pointed her finger at it. "You lookin' at me?"

The sheep turned away.

"That's what I thought."

She turned to Jock and Zac and said, "Okay! If acting doesn't work out, I now know I have an option as a sheepdog. And look at you, Jock! You're smiling!"

"Of course I am. It's the first time I've laughed since my Annie died."

She smiled up at him. "I'm glad. Now, if you don't mind, could I get a glass of water? Shouting at sheep makes a woman thirsty. You don't have to let us into your home because you weren't expecting company."

"You're welcome in my home. Clean as pin, as Annie would want. To say the truth, though, my Rosie is still in the kitchen in her basket. I had too much to do to bury her away yet. I had a fence to mend and my sheep and couldn't tend her, poor lass."

As they walked to his cottage, they heard a little about his wife Annie and an only child, Seth, who'd moved to Australia.

They drank their water inside and Quinn knelt and petted Rosie in her basket, "She's lovely, Jock. I'm so sorry."

"She was seventeen. A good long innings."

"Very good. I think you need another dog, don't you?"

"I was thinking that before to help Rosie with her age and there's a bitch in the village who whelped six pups five weeks gone now."

He looked at Quinn and Zac and said, "Excuse me. I am a country man. A female dog is a bitch and a male dog is called a dog. I mean no offense."

Zac smiled, "None taken."

"Do you want to bury Rosie here, Jock?"

"Oh, yes. Of course."

"If it's not too personal, could we help you dig her grave?"

He was taken aback. "It is too much kindness and to be honest and as you said I'm an older man. I know needs must at times but no woman should ever dig a grave. Ever. Women give all of us life and men should do the work when we die. Fair is fair. Those are my feelings."

Zac closed his eyes for a moment. Quinn was really about the girliest-girl on Earth and always out-butched him. He opened them. "Jock. I'll help you. If you haven't actually noticed because Quinn's in the room and I understand that, I am a man."

Jock looked with wonder at this tall handsome stranger movie star. "Would you, really?"

"Absolutely. Of course I will."

Quinn helped Jock wrap Rosie in her favorite blanket and he carried her out to a place under an oak tree.

He and Zac dug a grave and laid her in it and they all covered her.

They looked down at the place they'd made for her.

"I must say words for her now." Quinn and Zac nodded.

Jock sighed. "God, you gave me my good sheepdog who was one of my best friends for these long years. God, I hope you will let Rosie be with my Annie now because they loved each other. I thank you God for giving me Rosie and for sending me two kind people to help me in my time of need. Have a good long rest, Rosie, my girl. You deserve it. Amen."

Quinn and Zac said, "Amen."

Quinn put a hand on his shoulder and said softly, "Where's your local?" Nearly every Englishman or Englishwoman had a pub that was their local.

"Four miles down the road. I haven't been since Annie died."

"Alright. Do they serve food?"

"Pub food, as you know."

"I do. Zac will chow down and I'll be able to eat mushy peas because pub grub doesn't give me much choice. Do you feel up to having some dinner with friends?"

Jock just looked at her. He was seventy-eight years old. The only time he'd felt a miracle happen in his life, it was the first time he'd seen his wife. "I know you two have better things to do."

Zac shook his head, "Not a one, actually. C'mon, I'll drink seltzer and drive and you and Quinn can raise a pint to Rosie."

Jock put on a better shirt and washed his hands and wondered at the strangeness of life.

When they got to the pub, called The Cock and Bull, they could see it was nearly full. They entered a warm cheery place and everyone in the pub did a double take. After three months of trying to get him to get out after Annie died, Jock Barker had come back. It was a small village and they'd all known each other donkey's years and they were worried about him.

It was wonderful to see him but it was wild and inexplicable to see him with very, very famous people.

The pub owner, Joseph, immediately turned down the overhead music, and shouted, "Barker, you've been missed. We're glad you're here."

Everyone cheered their assent.

"Thank you. This is Quinn and Zac and they helped me drive my sheep today and helped me to bury my poor Rosie."

Joseph's wife Sheila rushed from behind the bar. "Oh my goodness. Jock! No! Rosie never died!"

"I hate to say so but she did, Sheila. She was gone away in her basket this morning. "

Everyone in the pub groaned in a truly saddened way both Quinn and Zac knew meant that they were all acquainted with Rosie. They wondered at the intimacy of such a small community where everyone knew a dog and knew what she'd meant to a neighbor.

Sheila hugged him. "This is terrible. But she was a very old girl and had a good long life and we're blessed for that. What a good dog she was, Jock. Everyone! I'll pour you pints and we'll lift them for her. What'll you have Zac and Quinn?"

"I'll have seltzer. I'm driving."

Sheila jerked her chin. "Nonsense. A great strapping man like you? I'll make you a good shandy and you won't feel a thing. Quinn?"

"I'll have a pint of whatever you suggest."

"Guinness—for that Claddagh you're wearing."

Quinn beamed at her.

* * *

They lifted a glass for Rosie and ate their dinner.

When they'd finished, Quinn approached Sheila and said, "Can we talk outside?"

"Of course."

They stepped out onto a deck behind the pub, "I know you people have known Jock forever and he's part of your community. Is there any young man in there who would be a good worker for him and wouldn't take advantage of his age? He needs someone to help him until he has a dog to help him."

"There's the best lad in the world named Charlie McDonald. He's in the pub now. He wants a job and some don't as you know. He'd do anything for him in a minute."

"Okay. Point him out to me and I'll pay him."

"He'd do it for free."

"I've only known Jock for a few hours and even I know he wouldn't take that. Tell me I'm wrong."

Sheila looked at this beautiful movie star and wondered why on Earth had God put her here and willing to do this. "He wouldn't."

"Right. So, what I'll do is pull Charlie aside and pay him for six months and then I'll be gone and Charlie can spring the bad news someone did something for him. Someone he doesn't have to look at every day." Quinn smiled at her. "Except if he watches my movies."

Sheila smiled. "I watch your movies."

"Poor you."

"No! Will you and Zac sign our wall?"

"Of course. I'll sign anything you have—even your forehead."

* * *

Everything was set with Charlie thirty minutes later. Zac asked Joseph to turn down the music and, because he had a stunning memory for dialogue, knew Quinn very well and was an amazing mimic, acted out the tale of Quinn's sheep-herding that had the room slapping their knees and weeping with laughter.

They lost spectacularly at darts, causing spectators to duck even when they weren't in range. It was quiz night and the Quinn-Zac team narrowly lost out because Quinn didn't know that English people called zucchini courgettes. They took pictures with everyone and signed everything in sight, hugged everyone and said cordial goodbyes.

* * *

As they took Jock back to his cottage in this completely isolated part of the Dales, Quinn couldn't help but think what it would be to have to sleep by yourself in a house after losing your wife and now your only other companion. "Jock, I don't want to presume on your hospitality but could we spend the night?"

"In my house?"

"Yes."

He thought about it. "Well, I have my boy's room but it's a small bed and I know you're married and not to Zac."

"Oh don't worry. I'll put him on the floor. He could sleep on a rock."

"That's a little true, Jock."

Jock thought about having people in his house on this night, of all nights, and it gave him such a sense of relief he didn't know what to do. "That you can. You stay and I'll make breakfast in the morning."

Quinn quickly said, "I'll help but I can tell you right now and again, a nice English breakfast fry up? I can eat the tomatoes, beans and mushrooms. But I will devour toast and fruit."

"Ah lass, how can you survive? And you so boisterous."

"I'm not boisterous. If you knew my wife, you'd know boisterous."

"Is that possible?"

Zac held up one hand, "I'm a witness."

"My goodness."

* * *

They settled for the night. With nothing to change into, Zac just stripped to his boxers and t-shirt and Quinn took her jeans off and kept her sweatshirt. They kept their voices down because Jock had gone to bed.

"I was kidding earlier, rock-head. You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the floor. I got us into this."

"No." He immediately stretched himself out on the layers of blankets Jock had placed on the ground for him and pulled another over him.

"To repeat. Despite the fact you are the most beautiful and most feminine human on this planet and I'm a very tall and handsome and dare I say buff and virile male, everyone ALWAYS assumes _you're_ the guy when we're together. But _I_ am. You get the bed. _You're _the girl. You're giving me a complex, woman!"

She laughed as she got into the bed. "I'm sorry, Zac. Feel free to channel your inner me when you want people to think of you as a man."

"And fuck you very much, Quinn Fabray."

She giggled, which she rarely did.

He looked up at her from the floor and said, "This has honestly been one of the best days of my life. Thank you, Quinn."

She held out her hand to him. "I love you, Zac."

He took it and kissed it. "I love you, too. I can't wait to tell Rach and San and Britts about this."

"Me either. Night." She turned out the bedside lamp.

"Night."

* * *

The next day they went to change and came back because Quinn demanded to help Jock pick out his puppy. Jock was amused but agreed.

There were six adorable border collie puppies. Quinn petted them and rolled each of them over on its back. Four of them enjoyed the attention and the petting but two of them, one girl and one boy, fought ferociously against this show of dominance. Alpha dogs.

"Choose between these two, Jock."

He smiled because he agreed with her assessment and wondered what made a movie star understand what it took to herd sheep. He thought for a moment and said, "I think I want them both."

Quinn smiled at him. "You should. They're beautiful."

Zac grabbed both puppies and let them kiss him. He adored dogs.

"And I'll name them Zac and Quinn."

Quinn laughed, "How entirely appropriate. Zac the dog and Quinn the bitch."

Zac snickered.

* * *

They continued to visit Jock throughout the shoot although he'd shot Quinn a dour look after Charlie's first appearance at his farm. They'd said goodbye and exchanged numbers and addresses with him.

They kept up with him, to his astonishment. Emailed and sent him pictures and called him. He went back to his pub and trained his new pups and schooled Charlie in the ways of sheep. He felt himself a lucky man.


	77. Chapter 77

**A/N: Disclaimers from Chapter One apply. This is completely AU, folks. As you all know at this point. **

**Thank you for continuing to grace me with reading and with taking the time to write. I truly and very deeply appreciate it. This is a very, very short throwaway. Remember these are snapshots of their lives.  
**

**I'm writing the two chapters that will end this but ideas come up and I'm sending them out so here goes. **

**Age 29**

* * *

Rachel was on location in Vancouver. For four weeks. Being away from her family was desperately unhappy enough for her and this work situation was the worst she'd encountered.

Her co-star, Alex Reynolds, a very, very hot new property, was also one of the most appalling persons she'd ever met and she'd obviously met her fair share. She dreaded every single day working with him. And the worst were to come because there were love scenes she'd have to shoot with him.

He leered at her, stepped too closely into her personal space and said such sexually suggestive things laced with homophobia that it made her skin crawl. Multiple times. Every day. She loathed him and he didn't like her either. But she had no doubt he very much wanted her sexually and more because she was gay than because she was physically attractive to him, although that was true, too.

She'd told him, with venom, to back off. In front of the crew and privately. She'd asked a producer and their director, Mark Morales, to talk to him but because he was their male star no one took it seriously.

It was so much worse than grade school and high school because here she not only needed to hold her head up but she needed to be a professional. An actress who caused a real commotion or disrupted a shoot over her inability to tolerate a fellow actor, no matter how well deserved? That would inevitably get out to the public and would inevitably be perceived as her fault. She'd be branded the 'difficult' one and she knew that and knew she could face enormous professional damage and he would have none.

Technically and truthfully, she was clearly the more accomplished performer but everyone knew he was what Hollywood would consider the money and the draw. Sadly enough, that was true. The cast and crew all despised him but he was THE star on the set.

But finally, there was a straw that broke the hobbit's back.

At lunch he sidled up far too close to her at the craft truck as they chose their meal items. "That all you're eating? Oh that's right, you don't like _real _meat, do you? What is it you like to eat again?"

He said it loudly enough that everyone heard it. Everyone averted their eyes.

Rachel's voice carried just as loudly. "Please refrain from speaking to me, Alex, except in a professional capacity. My dietary preferences are not your professional concern."

"Don't worry. I already know, _Pussy_cat."

And _that_? In front of the entire crew? That was it.

She walked to her trailer and ate her lunch by herself. She'd considered her options for days. She was a grown-up and a professional but everything about this was so wrong and so emotionally charged for her she knew she needed someone at least to talk to about it.

* * *

She'd pretended everything was fine on the phone for days with Quinn because she would be beside herself and homicidal, Santana would just be homicidal and Brittany might actually commit homicide. Beside the emotional aspect, and that was sad enough, her people were really too famous to help. Bringing any of them in would be so wildly obvious it would detonate the situation.

She sighed deeply, took out her cell and punched a speed dial number and was happy to hear an immediate connection. "Daddy?"

Eric was so delighted to hear her voice, although she called nearly daily, that he put Jacob on speaker-phone. She explained the situation to them and she heard her Dad gasp but her Eric said and she could hear the fire in his voice. "Oh no he didn't. That man said that to you today, baby girl?"

"In front of everyone. He says this sort of stuff to me every day and I can't call Quinn or Santana or Brittany because they have the babies and beside that it—it wouldn't be good. And I don't know what to do, Daddy. I just want to do my job but I have to kiss him next week when I can't stand the thought of him touching me. I know he's really looking forward to it because he hates me but he also, and I'm so sorry to say it this way, wants to fuck me in a mean way for being married to Quinn and I'll have to let him touch me and…" she couldn't finish because she'd begun to cry.

Eric felt overwhelmed with anguish. And a nearly insensate rage. Rachel had never, ever, ever asked for or let them intervene when someone bullied her or treated her badly. She had walked over hot fucking coals in school. That she was calling him for help meant it must be so bad it was… "Right. Your dad's getting on the Internet right now and booking me a ticket to Vancouver leaving today. No matter what time, to-fucking-day—and even if I have six connections, Jake, I don't care. Book it."

Jacob jumped up and ran to their nearest computer.

"I'm packing my bag and leaving for Cleveland for that airport in the next thirty minutes. Baby girl, email me with the details about how to get where you are and I will be there within 36 hours even if I have to drive from wherever. Don't tell anyone anything but a friend, Eric Goldstein, is coming to visit you on set and get me through security. Don't tell them I'm your father okay?"

Rachel sniffed and felt an instant relief. "Okay. I know I should be able to handle this because I'm not a baby. But no one listens here and I'm feeling sad because I can't tell my family."

"Shhh. I really understand about Quinn and the rest. You're an adult I'm proud of but you're wrong because you'll always be my baby. Hang tight sweetie, and keep in touch."

"Thank you daddy. I love you."

"Love you more. Always."

Eric got to Vancouver in record time, considering the same-day notice and the TSA giving him an extra special frisking that felt almost like a first date going really well because of a no-return one day notice ticket. Three layovers and he was finally there the next afternoon, staying in the same hotel where his baby was. He freshened up and when she got off work and met him in his room she collapsed in tears. He picked her up and walked them to a chair and let her tell him more and cry it out sitting in his lap. He rocked her back and forth gently, "Daddy's here, sweetheart."

* * *

The next day they'd walked onto the set and security had been alerted that Rachel Berry had a guest. But, from the name, they hadn't expected a middle-aged, very tall, and from the fitted shirt he was wearing, very muscular black man.

They cleared him and they were two hours early as Mark Morales always was. Rachel waved at him and he at her. He'd heard she'd have a guest on set. A surprising guest, considering the looks of him. Who knew?

He knew. In about two minutes.

Eric approached him. His visitor's badge said Eric Goldstein. The man extended his hand and said very quietly, "My name is Eric Berry. I'm Rachel's father. You don't have an option about talking to me. I know it's your set and your workday but your only option and I fucking promise you that is whether it's public or private. I'd prefer it to be private."

The look in the man's eyes told Mark he'd better agree to the private.

Once they were in Mark's trailer and before Mark could speak, Eric said, "No! You don't get to talk because you haven't spoken up for my daughter. I don't know you, Mark. I have to tell you I've seen a few of your movies and I've enjoyed them immensely. It shames me now to say I was incredibly excited that Rachel would be working with you but not so much today because you've allowed Alex Reynolds to abuse her on this set."

Mark could see the man was in a state of controlled fury. "He is sexually harassing her, Mark. This is a hostile work environment for my daughter. Maybe you haven't heard a little something called that's _illegal_. She has suffered this sort of sick shit before and do NOT think she doesn't document it because her other dad and I have trained her to. She will never file suit for this but I'm intervening for her with that bastard. I understand this business and I understand your professional position. Between a rock and a hard place. Got that part of the equation."

Mark Morales had no idea what to say to this.

"Again? I know this business and the egos in it. My daughter is Ms. EGOT and, young as she is, I'm sure you know you can't be the professional equivalent of her ever. I had to look in your eyes before I knew you're not jealous of her and taking it out on her for that and you're probably a nice guy. Exactly why are you letting this go on, Mark? Because from my vantage point? Shame on you, Mark. Shame on you, if you can even remember what the word shame used to mean before everyone lost the point of it."

Mark did know the point of it and he was ashamed. He was pinned to the wall with the point. He had to keep Alex and he despised the man. He told the truth.

"He's a conditional clause, Eric. I have to keep him to get the money to make the film."

"Got it. A conditional clause at the expense of causing my child emotional damage. Understand me. She's a grown woman—but she's my child."

Tears filled Mark's eyes because he did feel awful every day. "I hate what he says to her, Eric, but..."

"Yeah. What you don't understand is that Rachel has lived a lifetime of crap like this and I will not tolerate it. Do you know what actually having to kiss this shitbird will feel like for her?"

Mark refused to cry and didn't know what to do. "What do you want, Eric?"

"I want you not to tell anyone Rachel's my daughter and I want you to tell security to back off no matter what. I know that you need Alex for this production and it might look a little rough but I promise you as God is my witness I will not hurt a hair on his pretty pointy fucking head. Also, tell your entire crew and cast this morning they need to give up their cell phones today for some studio reason. No need for pictures or video."

"Got it." Mark was actually wildly happy someone might take care of this for him. And because he was Hollywood, something he wouldn't have to take the blame for. He knew and felt that he'd failed Rachel. "I'm sorry, Eric."

"I'm not who you should apologize to."

"I know that too."

"I going to be gentle with you because I think you don't exactly understand because you're all caught up in this Hollywood shit. I'm a gay man, Mark, but if you won't protect a woman or a girl because it's bad for your career? That means something about you. I can promise you that I could call Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez and they wouldn't blink an eye if they never made another dime because they protected Rachel. They're so much bigger than you are and you know it. They'd give it up. They wouldn't care."

He ran one hand over his head.

"Your reason on this fucking Earth as a man, and again, I'm holla gay, is to cherish, protect and defend women. Most times they don't need it because they're better and stronger than we are but if they do need us, come correct. I don't really give a shit if you agree. That's just how I see life."

* * *

Added to the fact everyone on set had suffered the hideous, nearly unbelievable indignity and tragedy of giving up their cells, they were all a little weirded out by this big older black guy who Rachel seemed to be all over in some sort of too much way. Sitting in his lap and talking and laughing. Although many people knew, as a matter of course, that Rachel had two fathers, both Eric and Jacob had kept themselves as much as possible out of the public side of her existence. None of them placed the man at all as anyone they'd ever seen.

Alex Reynolds showed up and predictably thirty minutes late. Except for Zac, Eric had never met an actor more than about 5'8". Which this one was. About a buck sixty. Maybe. Easy out.

Rachel and Alex shot a scene staged in an office. He blew it but fifteen takes later, it was in the can. When he saw her sit on this strange dude's lap, he called out, "Oh I get it, Rachel. Kitty in the city, daddy everywhere else."

The strange dude very gently deposited Rachel on the floor and approached him. Before Alex knew what was happening, Eric grabbed him by his clothing and picked him up bodily with scary ease. He slammed him down on the faux office table and easily held him down because the younger man was terrified.

"Hi, Alex. I'm Eric. You called it right. I_ am_ Rachel Berry's daddy, as in I am her motherfucking father, you freak. Try saying the shit you say to my daughter now that I'm here. Pussy? Yeah. Say that to MY face. Say it to Mr. Scary Big Black Gay Man. Say that shit to me and let's see how you feel after you say it to ME."

Everyone on set was completely disbelieving of what was going on. Star-man was finally getting served.

"Oh, and let me act like you do with my daughter. She's told me how you talk to her on this set. You have tried your best to humiliate her in sexual ways on set in front of your co-workers. Let me show you what that feels like, bitch. Everyone here is hearing this and knowing it. How about this for humiliation? I promise you I'm strong enough I could turn you over and rough it off you, bitch. I could easily punk you in ninety seconds flat. I wouldn't be interested in you in a million years but I could. Look the fuck around at every single one of your co-workers listening to me saying these humiliating bullshit words to you. Knowing you're a punk-ass pussy."

He raised his fist and Alex wanted to sink into the desk. Eric shook it and growled, willing himself not to hit this man.

Instead he opened his fist and pointed an index finger in the man's face. "I know you'll never give any woman the respect she deserves but you say one more fucking word against my baby on this set and I swear before God I will pound your head until your brain is oatmeal. I'm a physician and I know I have the strength to do it. It's professional communication from now on or she'll tell me and I'll be all over it and you, bitch. I'm going to let you go now. I haven't hurt you but if you look around, I think you'll find every fucking one of the people you work with are laughing at you and loving it. Unlike my baby when you talk your shit, because they close their eyes and hate it. Get going, pussy-boy."

He let him go and Alex was startled that every person on the set began to clap. He raced away to his trailer and called his manager.

Mark Morales was incredibly impressed and shouted, "Listen up, people! When you get your cells back, if any one of you post or tweet anything about this, you're fired. I'm not kidding. I will fire you. And will follow you and black ball you. This was private."

* * *

Rachel smiled up at her father, "You were very fearsome and formidable, daddy!"

He smiled down at her. "Well, I had a reason, baby girl. What's my one reason for everything?"

She beamed up at him and stamped her foot. "Me!"

He smiled and hugged her. She clung to him tightly and realized not unlike, and thought fondly as she did so, a baby chimp.

* * *

Astonishingly, nothing hit the Internet.

**A/N**

**That's it for the day folks. More to follow. Damn it! **


	78. Chapter 78

**A/N: Disclaimers from Chapter One apply. This is completely AU, folks. As you all know at this point. **

**More clean-up on aisle five. Some Sam/Puck/Sam. And the rest? Let's see...Santana and Quinn and poor Rachel. But Rachel can take care of herself.**

**This is the song in the story. Go to something called youtube. And put ****this in.**

**/watch?v=zIraynujTsI**

**28 Years Old**

* * *

Back in Oregon. It was a Saturday one week after the reunion. Sam Evans walked into the same Starbucks he always did for his morning round-up meeting before his semi-monthly mountain bike club ride. A slightly younger man named Toby Thompson approached him. He'd known and biked with him for nearly a year. He did something with computer programming and was a buff African-American guy with light green eyes and a shock of unruly hair that he sometimes streaked with purple or red.

"You're back! How was the reunion?"

Sam smiled and sipped his iced coffee. "Probably like every reunion ever. Sort of nice and awkward but add really famous people. It's weird because it's a little strange that your friends are big stars and it's still like old times."

Toby nodded and said, "I don't have that to worry about, believe me, but I'm not looking forward to mine. Four years away to my ten but I think a reunion could re-define awkward for me."

"Yeah. Totally."

Sam looked at Toby. Really looked at him. He liked him well enough because he seemed cool and was one hell of a biker but talking to him was always weirdly awkward. Toby always spoke to him and always spoke first but never said much and Sam had chalked it up to the guy being really shy or something. With a brain flash out of the blue, he realized maybe he'd been missing something about Toby. Oh. _Oh_.

Well. Wow. He flashed to Quinn and Puck and thought oh what the hell.

He immediately felt self-conscious because he didn't know how to do this at all…and faltered for a few moments before saying, "Hey, you know what, Tobe? After the ride, would it be cool if we met up later for some Mexican food or something? I mean, if you don't have something else going on."

Even Sam could see what this meant to Toby because the young man's face was suddenly completely alight. "Really?"

"Sure."

Sam was inwardly thrilled as he watched Toby realizing he had to tone his excitement down. He'd been right! But he was completely dumbstruck when Toby looked around and lowered his voice, "Would it be lameacide if I answered yes in Na'vi?"

Sam lowered his voice. "How'd you know I speak Na'vi?"

"When you had that flat two months ago, it sort of sounded like that's what you were speaking under your breath."

"I was and I'll have to be more careful because most people don't understand it's not lame—it's awesome." He smiled, gave Toby a high-five, immediately walked out into the parking lot and thought YES! as he unlocked his bike from his truck.

* * *

They didn't have Mexican. Sam had offered that because he thought maybe most guys ate Mexican. From their brown bag lunches on the trail, Toby had evidently picked up on the fact that Sam was extremely disciplined with food and asked about maybe going to a health food place instead. They chose one they both liked and laughed and talked about all sorts of stuff, jumping from topic to topic getting to know each other. Work, their families, religion. Sports and books and comics and games and SyFy.

It was a little surreal for Sam to be on a date with a guy. Because this wasn't just two guys having food and shooting the shit. It was totally a date because he was looking into this man's eyes and could see and feel it. They were really hitting it off in a way that felt so unforced and so relaxed he couldn't believe it. It was the most fucking fantastic first date he'd ever been on.

Toby followed him back to his place and they drank a couple of beers and played Wii tennis. Sam had _no idea_ why he'd suggested it because the fuck? With Finn, he'd have just beat his ass at some Xbox game. He didn't know what to do with a guy who'd come back to his apartment after a date. Except the obvious and he knew he wasn't ready for that. They played Wii boxing and after Toby beat the shit out of him at that too, he saw Sam's guitar and said, "How about this. I know you were in a Glee club. Sing a song, Sam."

Sam wanted nothing more than not to sing a song for Toby. Because serenading a guy surely had to be like at least three or four dates down the line.

"Okay. One. Let me sing a song THE Santana Lopez wrote just for me in school. We were dating and this is the shit she wrote and sang to me in front of our whole Glee Club."

He sang Trouty Mouth and Toby gaped, then doubled over laughing. "I'm sorry—but that's sort of…"

"I know! It's true! Damn!"

They laughed the rest of their way through the evening and before Toby left the apartment, Sam just went for it. He stepped forward and tentatively kissed Toby for two brief seconds. Toby smiled and kissed him back. And then kissed him again. They made a date for the next Friday and Sam was really surprised to find he didn't feel all that weird or bad about any of it.

* * *

As soon as Toby left, he texted Puck:

**Sam Evans:** Embarrassing but I had a killer date with a guy 2night

**Noah Puckerman: **No way! Already? GTFO! Really?! FUCK THE FUCK YES! Deets now!

**Sam Evans:** In my mntn bike club and badass. Likes SyFy and does cmputer stuff. He rlly likes me

**Noah Puckerman: **RU kidding? If he didn't, I'd fuck him up! But lts gt srs. What base did U tag, man?

**Sam Evans:** Only 1st

**Noah Puckerman: **OK. But need 2 work on that bro. Hold up. My Sam's in

**Sam Puckerman:** I don't even know what 2nd base is with guys but tag it for me, OK?

**Sam Evans:** Never let me live this down will U?

**Sam Puckerman:** EZ answer. No. Send me a pic. Now. And I know U have 1

He did.

One minute went by.

**Sam Puckerman:** RU kidding me? Re-thinking this whole marriage thing. That man is fuckity fine. Where's the line for that action? Day-umm. Sorry Puckzilla

**Noah Puckerman**: Rt? Re-thinking the whole hetero thing. Sorry Samzilla. Boy Sam? Dude! See? Go get 'em, badass!

**Sam Evans**: TBH, I told U guys because ur my bros and U helped me out in Lima. Aww man. That was a pun, rt?

**Sam Evans: **I needed to tell some1. Thnks 4 being cool. But don't say anything 2 anyone else okay? I'll tell Q and no1 else

**Noah Puckerman**: Are U kidding? Never. So happy going 2 go shout at the moon 4 U

**Sam Puckerman**: He really will, Sam. I live with him. Good for U sweetie. Good for you. We 3 U

**Sam Evans:** Back atcha

* * *

Sam sat with that for a few minutes. He'd totally had a date with a man, kissed a man and had he actually just sort of kind of come out to two of his best friends? It was bewildering but it didn't feel bad. He cracked open another beer and concentrated because he knew Quinn hated text-speech. Oh boy, did he know. He'd dated her.

**Sam Evans:** Q? Hi! I went on a date tonight

**Quinn Fabray:** Hello, Samuel. And you would only text me this for one reason. I hope he was worthwhile

**Sam Evans:** He speaks Na'vi

**Quinn Fabray:** ! Send me a picture right now. Praying that two good-looking men can be that geeky

He did.

**Quinn Fabray:** My my. I'm Cap-G Gay and even I can see that's well done, Mr. Evans. Gorgeous AND smart?

**Quinn Fabray:** And nice to you or I'll kill him?

**Sam Evans: **Very smart and nice

**Quinn Fabray:** Good. So happy. Won't tell anyone on this end but when YOU do?

**Quinn Fabray:** Prepare for S to be a happy ass and for R to enthuse too enthusiastically

**Sam Evans:** I know—and B will just shrug and say knew it

**Quinn Fabray: **I knew B was smarter than all of us at age 8. From age 6-8, S hit me a number of times to help me with that. At this point, however, I have empirical evidence

**Sam Evans:** It took me about a month knowing them before I was jealous of Santana

**Quinn Fabray**: As are we all. I won't even conjecture about this reveal to Choc-Milk

**Sam Evans:** Oh God

**Quinn Fabray:** No worries. When you feel like telling them, let me know and I'll put a cap on their gloating. As in captain of the Cheerios. They still see me that way

**Sam Evans: **Uh Q, everyone who knew you then sort of still sees you that way

**Quinn Fabray:** Well. That's my cross to bear (rolling eyes)

**Sam Evans: **You know what's weird?

**Quinn Fabray:** Me?

**Sam Evans: **Stop it. It's like I just right now realized I dated you and S and you're famous people. Do you think that gives me street cred?

**Quinn Fabray:** Hmmm. Let me put it this way. You have two 100% gay ex-girlfriends

**Sam Evans: **Whoa. That makes me seem super-gay, huh?

**Quinn Fabray:** Un poco

**Sam Evans:** Damn

**Quinn Fabray:** But the whole star stuff? Knowing 'stars'? FEEL FREE to use it daily. Hooking friends up is ALL it's good for, believe me

**Quinn Fabray:** I love you and I'm so happy for you. Keep me FULLY informed of developments or I will find you, Sam Evans. Night night, buddy

**Sam Evans:** I love you too. Thanks, Quinn. Sleep well

Sam and Toby texted and called each other every day before their next date. When Sam saw Toby again he knew it was too early to call the score but it felt like he was seeing some part of him that had been missing forever.

* * *

**Age 29: Two Months after Eric's Intervention with Rachel**

Rachel hadn't wanted to or even had time to share the news of her Daddy's intervention because she was no sooner home than Quinn was on location in Wyoming. Quinn had been completely heartsick at leaving so soon after Rachel had come home. She knew that being away from the family meant sadness for any one of them but she knew it didn't mean for them what it meant to her. She loved being alone but she didn't feel like she was herself away from them for extended periods of time. Which was probably not healthy, but having a family around her was as healthy as maybe she could be.

She liked and respected Kyd Bennett, her relatively new but talented director. She could not stand her co-stars. John Amberg because he nearly rogue-hated her. He was a 24 year old B-lister getting very close to A and they all knew it. That's why he'd been cast. She'd tried to do the whole 'nice Quinn' thing with him and it hadn't worked from day one. He resented the hell out of her because she WAS the A-list on the set. She didn't like him but his way of dealing didn't really bother her. He wasn't even business polite. He never acknowledged her existence except in professional capacity, which was fine with her.

Julia Frederick was her female co-star. She was a 23 year old and was a B-lister, in Quinn's considered opinion, only because she was a petite and truly wildly good-looking redhead. She _could _actually act and very well but she preferred to ride on the beauty-train. Or booty train.

Julia bothered Quinn because she was hitting on her as if a score with her would win her the last points she needed for the ultimate level in some Lesbian Call of Duty Hollywood Edition. Quinn had told her it was hopeless. She'd told her to stop. She'd talked to her privately about the issue. Outside Julia's trailer. It was unseemly and irritating and a huge test of her 'no HBIC on set' rule.

It was doubly galling that this idiot was running a showmance with a B-list actor named Andy Fielding. Because Quinn was in town, so were the paps. And now Andy was in town and because Quinn only went to her hotel and nowhere else, Julia's people were arranging sightings with Andy and the publicity pictures of her and her 'boyfriend' were all over the Internet.

Quinn had not found it hard to put two and two together for the dynamic on this set. It was an old, old story. Sartre and Hellman had written plays about something a little similar. She liked Sartre's better because it included the line, "Hell is other people." Easy peasy. John was into Julia. Julia was into her. She wasn't into either of them and no one was happy. So she found herself in bullshit and batshit central.

She called Rachel many times every day and Skyped her at night. She immediately told Rachel what was happening, which made Rachel's heart ache with guilt for not having told Quinn about her problems on her set. And made her furious with this Julia person. She'd immediately looked her up on IMDB and did not hesitate to book a flight to Wyoming. She didn't even tell her Quinn she was coming.

She walked through a third floor hallway of Quinn's hotel with her small carry-on and saw a man standing outside a door on the left. Protection. That would be Quinn's room. Santana always provided protection for her, Quinn and the children when they went anywhere. Rachel was on a solo mission to Quinn but she knew her own protection had been on the plane and was even now somewhere behind her.

This security had been established for Rachel many years earlier than for Quinn. Rachel had had a bit of a blow-out with Santana years earlier after years of accepting but finally complaining with no little heat that she never got to go anywhere by herself.

* * *

**24 Years Old**

Santana had listened to Rachel's ranting, had taken it all in and nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I truly get your point, hobbs. I do. You feel like the boy in the bubble. And I'm sorry but no, Prince fucking William, you do NOT get to go all over the place by yourself. You're too important to our family. What I'm about to say is not your fault. You've had to be so fucking brave all your life and you're so all up in your politically correct cloud of truth to power, it's made you a little clueless about how small you are physically and how big and hard and sharp the rest of the world is."

She waved a vague hand at herself, "Look at me. In terms of exposure, I'm actually a much bigger star than you are. Millions more people know my face than yours and they don't even notice me if I put a hoodie up, walk on and ignore them. But _you_? You're so obvious. You don't look like anyone else for one thing. For another, you _want_ to be noticed. You _want_ the attention and you walk around beaming like the fucking Broadway star you are. It's like you think all attention is good and you could talk your way or sing your way out of if it weren't. But you can't, Rachel."

Rachel glared at her. "I'm not that naive and I think I know just a little more about being physically assaulted than you do, Santana."

"That you certainly do and glare on, hobbs. I'm not even talking about that sucker punch from out of nowhere no one could have avoided. You'd let anyone get within arm's-length of you because you think you're so much bigger than you are and you still think people are better than they are. I'm physically smaller than you are, Rachel. I talk shit but I know that. But that's because I know_ exactly_ how small I am compared to the world and _exactly_ how easy it would be for someone to hurt Britts or Q or you."

"That's why I'm always on the alert and ready to fuck people up. I know I have to suss shit out non-stop and be ready non-stop because if things go bad, I have to hit as hard as I can and as quick as I can and first because if I don't, I'm too fucking small to help you guys. You could never imagine how living with knowing that feels for me. I have lived with that feeling, that almost paralyzing fear, every fucking second of every minute of every day since I was three years old."

Santana shook her head, obviously forcing emotion down, and wiped her eyes.

"In all the bullshit altercations I've had in my life, I've hurt plenty of people but I've been hurt exactly once in a fight I was a dumbass enough to start. Once and not all that badly but I live my life expecting people who approach me to hurt me or mine. You? You've been violently attacked and hurt all of your life and once you were almost killed and you still always expect people to be nice. I know that as sure as I'm sitting here. If you have even a modicum of honesty and self-awareness and I know you do, you won't deny that."

"That said? Fine. You're a better person than I am. I been knowing that. You got over Russell's bullshit a few hours after he did it and I know it. But I still dream about it and wake up in a cold sweat weekly about it even now—I swear to God every fucking week, sometimes twice a week and it's what now? Eight years later?"

Rachel lowered her eyes because she could entirely believe it was true.

Santana continued, "How about forgetting about you for a second? If anything happened to you, Quinn would want to die but she'd force herself to live because of her sense of propriety and duty to us. I'd have to live for her and Britts but I would want to die literally every minute forever if I had failed you. Every single day watching Quinn without you. It makes me fucking breathless to think what it would do to Brittany."

"So no. I can't control your health or acts of God but I will control the shit I can. You are not just your own anymore. You have a duty to us, Rachel, just as we have a duty to you. I know it's not fun and what you imagined you were signing up for. If you think I want to sit around obsessing about protecting you, I promise you you're wrong. But I love you and it's my duty. I don't know what to say if you can't understand that."

Santana ferociously wiped tears from her eyes and from the true sheer anxiety and anguish in her eyes, Rachel could see this was an eight-pack discussion she'd have to have with Quinn because she couldn't have it with the woman in front of her.

After eight years of friendship, this was the first time Santana had ever spoken to her at any length about her very serious and sometimes nutritionally/physically dangerous anxiety problem. Santana had made glancing references to it over the years because it wasn't exactly a secret. Rachel also knew that speaking about it must make Santana feel smaller, more vulnerable and more anxious. That she cared enough to talk to her about it anyway made Rachel's heart ache.

"Compromise, Rach. Okay? I'll work out some Prince William protection from now on because I feel you and because wasn't that interesting that he got to go to university and was seen shopping for himself and going to pubs and blah blah blah. If you think that motherfucker didn't have discrete security with him every second of the day, you are out your got-damn mind."

"I watched this documentary about him once and it had some girl at his school talking about seeing him reading in front of some building all by himself and thought, what the fuck, he's alone. I'll go talk to me some future Prince of Wales. She got within fifty yards of him and three men were suddenly there. He wasn't alone but he was as alone as he could safely be. So get this. I understand you want to go places by yourself and without us and that's cool but you will have security. I promise you before God the people I hire will never tell me or any of us where you go or what you do or any of that shit."

"That will never be their job. They will never keep tabs on you and I swear to God I will fuck them up if they try to tell me or any one of us anything about what you do. They'll only be there to keep you safe. Purely and simply. You'll be as alone as I can tolerate and be able to breathe, keep food down and sleep."

Santana gave Rachel a very sad and almost defeated smile.

"I know it's unfair for you to have to deal with my anxiety obsessive-compulsive shit and that it's probably about 95% unnecessary. I know that, Rachel. I do know that. Maybe therapy or medication could change how I feel. But I'll never know because I don't ever want to change. Ever. Changing me would leave you guys at risk. You see the fucking irony in that, right? I do, too. From the ground up."

She looked at the floor and said very quietly, "My parents wanted to send me to a therapist when I was six because I was so obsessed with taking care of Brittany. They loved Britts but they wanted to make sure I was okay. I refused to go because I thought they were trying to take her away from me or make it seem like it would be okay to be away from her."

Santana smiled again. "As if that could ever be possible."

"I've always stood between her and the world, Rachel. And then Quinn and then you. I understand it's crazy but please deal with it. We are family and you can't deny I deal with your personal version of cray-cray all the live long day—every fucking day. 3.6.5."

Rachel looked at her for a very long minute and Santana was not necessarily surprised by the fact she smiled at her and broke into song. It was a cruel choice because _The King and I _was a grudging and secret favorite of hers. She was not surprised at all that Rachel knew that.

Even _a cappella_, Rachel channeled the fuck out of her inner Marni Nixon and killed it. Santana cursed herself for starting to cry within three lines.

_Getting to know you_  
_Getting to know all about you_  
_Getting to like you_

_Getting to hope you like me_  
_Getting to know you_  
_Putting it my way_  
_But nicely_

_You are precisely_  
_My...cup...of tea_

Rachel inflected those words deeply, tenderly and kindly. Santana thought even as she listened that it was so unfair because Rachel knew her voice and knew what she was doing smiling and singing so sweetly and gently. Santana wept like a baby.

_Getting to know you_  
_Getting to feel free and easy_  
_When I am with you_  
_Getting to know what to say_  
_Haven't you noticed_  
_Suddenly I'm bright and breezy?_  
_Because of all the beautiful and new_  
_Things I'm learning about you_  
_Day...by...day_

_Getting to know you_  
_Getting to know all about you_  
_Getting to like you_

_Getting to hope you like me_  
_Getting to know you_  
_Putting it my way_  
_But nicely_  
_You are precisely_  
_My cup of tea_

Rachel knelt at Santana's knees.

_Getting to know you  
Getting to feel free and easy  
When I am with you  
Getting to know what to say  
Haven't you noticed_  
_Suddenly I'm bright and breezy?  
_Because of all the beautiful and new  
_Things I'm learning about you_  
_Day...by...day_

Santana couldn't even imagine what to say. She dashed the tears off her face with both hands and said, "Right. Got it. Get the fuck out. Enough with the mushy, LD. _No me gusta_!"

Rachel smiled as she stood. "And how about the future Grammy songs you're writing for me?"

That came from nowhere and was a complete change of subject Santana knew was an effort to lighten the mood.

Santana looked down at the crossword puzzle Rachel had interrupted. "Again. Whatever, bish. Yeah. Me and Ryk have been thinking it's about time to do a Rachel-S CD."

Rachel had just been playing and fishing but at this verification she clapped her hands. "Really?!"

"Unless you object."

"Object? I'm thrilled! I realize the differences in our particular vocal talents will necessitate some thought on your part but I'm thrilled!"

Santana rolled her eyes. "You do know that was, as fuckheads say, a left-handed compliment, don't you? Which is to say in the French, gauche. And think about the connotations of the word gauche. Fucking French. Left-handed is best-handed. Motherfuckers."

Rachel kissed Santana on her etymologically outraged cheek.

Santana scowled at her crossword puzzle. "Right. You know what? Fuck off. I love you, too. Oh look. Huh. What's a six letter word for obnoxious-ass diva that starts with the letter R?"

"What's a seven letter word for bitch that starts with the letter S?"

* * *

The next day was a dark day at Rachel's theatre and Santana had told Rachel two hours after their conversation she could call a number one half hour from departure to activate the security. Rachel went out by herself for the first time in years. She looked behind her and around her as she walked and couldn't believe anyone was with her until two men recognized and approached her and suddenly two other large men flanked her. She signed autographs and took pictures with her fans and the other two men immediately disappeared without speaking to her.

In the nearly empty theatre at an afternoon movie showing, Rachel looked around and only saw a smattering of couples. She knew the men were there but she felt alone. She was alone. Sort of. She felt as safe as if Santana were with her.

When she got home, Quinn, Santana and Brittany were cooking.

"_Hola, chica_. Have a good day?"

"It was very exciting, Santana! I had soy chai at Coffee Beinz and I went to Mama Jazz and listened to a number of interesting LP selections of 30s jazz songs they'd made digital. Then I went to What's Black and White and perused books for an inordinate amount of time, purchased a few for all of us and then went to see the digitally enhanced audio version of Oklahoma!"

Rachel's big day out. It was so sweet and so her, Quinn thought, as she sauteed peppers and onions.

"You will be astonished to hear that I refrained from singing along. It was very tempting but I am not certain yet how I feel about the digital enhancement. It's more crisp but having grown up with the softness of the original may have biased me. I'm completely unsure how I feel at this moment."

She wasn't really talking about the movie. "I missed you guys."

Quinn smiled down at her veggies, knowing she was the only one in the family who truly longed for solitude. Personally, on a day out alone, she would have gone to the botanical garden in the Bronx, sat as far away as possible from people and sound and re-read anything by Dickens or Chekhov. Surrounded by the silence of green.

Rachel, on the other hand, had been alone most of her young life. She hadn't liked it and needed the constant stimulation of people, sight and sound. She needed it. Even if she had to provide most of it for herself, as she'd had to for so long. Rachel was no loner. All of them knew this. The important thing was that Rachel knew she had the option to be. And fair enough.

Brittany grinned down at the noodles she was testing for doneness and Santana simply kissed Rachel on the cheek. "We missed you too, _ese_."

* * *

They didn't tell anyone at all about the security until the children were born. Santana had been white-lying for years and it was a relief to tell their family and friends.

* * *

**29 Years Old**

Quinn was delighted when she opened the door. "Rachel!" She picked her up and kissed her. "Angel! What are you doing here?"

She slammed the door and carried her across the room, gently placed her on the bed, and smothered her face with kisses, "I prayed for you and here you are!"

Rachel laughed and kissed her for a lovely few minutes but then pulled away and said, "I have a confession to make, Quinn."

The smaller woman looked so honestly guilt-stricken that Quinn actually leapt up from the bed. "_What_?"

Rachel stared at her. "You can't possibly think what I think you're thinking."

Quinn had paled with fear, "You show up out of nowhere to confess something which would be pretty fucking convenient when I was out of town. What do you think I'm thinking, Rachel?"

"Oh baby, no. _Never._ Never ever in this lifetime or any other. Nothing like that. Please, please, please. I needed to tell you Alex Reynolds sexually harassed me in Vancouver and so badly I called our daddy to help me."

Quinn just looked at her and then she flopped into a chair and stared at the floor. "Explain."

Rachel recounted the episode at length and Quinn nodded but didn't look at her. "Understood. You had a personal and professional experience that was so traumatic to you that you felt the need to call for physical and emotional assistance and you didn't think that was interesting enough to tell me. Because—hey—it's not like it matters, huh? Sharing your life with your spouse. Go away. Go home, Rachel."

The coldness of Quinn's voice made Rachel feel the blood rush out of her hands and made her stomach sink like she was on a roller coaster. "Quinn, please. No."

"No? Don't tell me no. You think _I _need a Berry to ride to the rescue? _Me_? That's risible. You don't get to come here just to make some incredibly lame apology that happily coincides with your marking your territory because you're just a little more than jealous some stupid pretty bitch is hitting on me and don't think I don't know that part of it. You don't have to be jealous, if you'd taken the time to notice, because I just happen to tell you the sort of things you keep from me. But forget your troubles—c'mon get happy! You've put me in a particular mood I remember so well that I know I'll fucking hand Julia's ass to her tomorrow. I don't need you to threaten or hurt people for me, Rachel. If you remember our golden years, I can do that all by myself. Thanks for those memories. Go home."

Rachel had known it would be bad but not this bad. Her eyes filled with tears. "Don't do this Quinn."

"Do what? Keep things that really matter to me emotionally from you? Things that truly hurt me and challenge me? Things like that? I'm not saying you have to share your whole fucking soul, Rachel, because even I know that's not what a marriage means but what you're talking about's a pretty major event to keep from me. Don't think I don't get the point. You didn't want to bring up that whole bullying thing with me when you were getting bullied yet again and I feel for you there. But with the problems I've worked _so _hard to overcome you had to know if I found out and you and Dad are such blabbermouths you had to know I would—you should have known it would make me feel really, really insecure. As in where's the trust? Where's the honesty? Look at me."

Rachel looked into Quinn's eyes as the woman waved a hand at the room.

"I'm just sitting in a chair. I'm not being violent. I'm not raising my voice. I'm discussing this with you in pretty calm way from my vantage point. I'd vaguely understand if you'd wanted to handle it all by yourself and not tell a soul because you're an adult. But you didn't handle it all by yourself. You didn't even talk to me. What did you think I'd do to Alex?"

Rachel was surprised that Quinn looked more profoundly saddened than angry. "Of course I would have been pissed off at him but if you'd told me to let you handle it and let you call Daddy, I would have worried every day but I'd have said okay, do it. Even if you'd asked for _me_ to come I wouldn't have ever done anything public like Daddy. But I would have gotten my point across. Either way, I would have shown you respect and might have even had a chance to prove to you that I've grown up and out of who I used to be. But you didn't give me that chance, did you? Because you don't trust me and you don't value my emotional support. Why should you? I'm only your wife. Go home, Rachel. I'll handle Julia. I don't need you here if you didn't need me there."

"Quinn."

"I'm really not kidding, Rachel."

"I know you aren't but I'll sleep on the floor and you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. I'm not leaving you when we're like this. I'm sorry. I told you because I knew I was wrong and I'm sorry."

Quinn got on the phone with the lobby and ordered five extra blankets and four pillows and threw them on the floor when they arrived. One excruciatingly silent hour passed before she ordered vegan lasagna and a vegan salad for two, ate hers at the desk in the corner and didn't speak. Rachel didn't have the heart to eat anything so she flossed and brushed her teeth and made her bed on the floor.

After eating, Quinn brushed her teeth and changed, walked around Rachel and flopped on the bed. She pulled up On Demand Adult Swim on cable. _The Brak Show. _Rachel could tolerate and perhaps even secretly liked _Aqua Teen Hunger Force_ but for some reason she hated Brak. Quinn knew that and turned the volume up. Relentless silence from Quinn except for _The Brak Show_, which said it all, actually. Brak you.

"Goodnight Quinn."

"Whatever."

"I love you."

"Sure you do."

Rachel put a pillow over her head. Quinn turned the volume up.

* * *

At 2:37 AM, Rachel was still awake and she knew the time because she'd worn her watch to bed. Quinn growled, "Get up here. You're keeping me awake not snoring on the floor."

Rachel climbed into bed and Quinn said, "Don't touch me. I'm so angry with you."

"I know. I deserve it. But I didn't deserve fourteen episodes of Brak."

"Oh yes you did. Late call. We hit the set at 10:30."

"I can come with?"

"Whatever. If you want."

"I do. I do want to be with you. I can't leave us like this."

A few dark, silent minutes went by and Quinn whispered, "It hurts me when you don't see or trust how much I've changed, Rachel. It's really painful. You're the one person who needs to see it and if you can't, I don't know if it's even true."

"Can I hold your hand, Quinn?"

Quinn took hers.

"You have grown so much. I promise I'll talk on Skype with Dr. Bloomfield about this. I'm so sorry, Quinn. So sorry. Please, please forgive me. And please don't make me listen to more Brak."

Quinn smiled in the darkness. "C'mere, little spoon." Rachel felt like she'd dissolve with relief as Quinn wrapped an arm around her. "I'm still hurt and still angry, Rachel."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"No more apologies. Accepted. I have to get over it. I will. I know you're a performer who just happens to be a wife and I'm a wife who just happens to be a performer and that's who we are as people. Just please remember the way you are means I know I'll always be second but I can tolerate that as long as you try to remember me."

Rachel was honestly horrified by this assessment. "Oh my God, Quinn. I know you're angry but be fair. I've changed a lot too. You are absolutely not second to me in anything. If you think I don't love you more than my career, _you're_ the person who hasn't been paying attention. I know I'm wrong in this instance but don't sell me short."

"But you _are_ short, Rachel."

Rachel knew better than to sigh because of this reprieve because that would be acknowledging Quinn's tell and the woman wasn't ready to let go of being pissed off. Quinn never made fun of her but mocking her always meant affection. It meant Quinn had really heard her and was still emotionally_ with_ her, even if she was angry.

Rachel smiled in the darkness, "Fine. When the insults start, it's time to sleep. I know I don't get a real kiss but kiss my head, please."

"Fine." Quinn kissed the back of Rachel's head. "Goodnight, Rach."

"I love you Quinn."

"Yes. I believe you."

Words she'd said to Quinn when they were sixteen made Rachel feel so sad she wanted to cry but, again, knew she couldn't because she was the one who'd done harm. She lay awake for an hour after she knew Quinn had fallen asleep.

They'd changed so much and could be doing so well and then BAM! Right back into their old patterns. She took a deep breath and squeezed Quinn's hand. It was nothing that they couldn't work on harder.

* * *

The next morning, Quinn was distant but relatively pleasant. She spoke to her as they ate breakfast and Rachel took that as a very good sign. As they drove to the set, Quinn asked, "So. What do you want to do? Meet Kyd first, then punch Julia or vice versa?"

"I do want to meet Kyd because I'll be a guest on his set but I just want to sit and be with you. I've missed you so much."

"You don't want to punch Julia."

"No. I want to eviscerate Julia. She has no respect for our marriage. That said, please don't call me on the irony of my saying that when you're so angry with me and imagining that I don't either."

"I wasn't going to and I don't think that."

They drove in silence for a long few minutes, looking out at the passing scenery.

"Wyoming is pretty."

"It is."

Rachel sighed. "I have never loved anyone or anything more than I love you, Quinn. I would sleep on the floor for months to be near you if that's what it took to make you know how sorry I am because I can't be close enough to you. That's been true forever. I'm sorry. But when you say you're sorry and you mean it and you know why you're wrong and know what you've done, what more can you do?"

Quinn glanced at Rachel's incredibly sad and troubled profile. She reached out and ruffled Rachel's hair. "Stop with the sad, angel. Talk to Dr. Bloomfield about it and I'll talk to Dr. Southerland and we'll have a coffee klatsch about it together afterward, okay?"

Rachel looked at her hopefully, "Really?"

"Really. It's not just your problem—it's mine, too. I know that. No more sad or angry about this. We'll work on how we do better together in the future."

Quinn offered her hand. Rachel took it and said, "I'm sorry I'm not an easy person to deal with."

"Rachel, we're literally nearly polar opposites in personality and we're married. Things will happen."

"I know that but we've been married ten years."

"Not yet. We have a few months before that anniversary and I was hoping to surprise you but in the spirit of candour that I'd be a bit of a jerk to hold you to and not me, I've been planning something."

"What's that?"

"Would you like to renew our vows? I'd like a church ceremony this time. Your rabbi and San's priest."

Rachel was completely agog. "_Really_?"

"Yes. And guess what? They're onboard. We had to get Father Andrew while we have him. He's ninety-nine years old. I've cleared everyone's calendar and even have a PowerPoint about the venue, flowers, music and menu."

"Really?!"

"No. Of course not. But it sounded good, didn't it? I do have lists, though. Many lists."

"Who knows about this?"

"Everybody except you."

Rachel whacked Quinn on the arm. "Everybody who?"

"Our family and a few friends."

"You are a _DEMON_. A demon in human form. You acted like you did last night and you kept _this_ from me?"

"Ah ah ah. Your actions were subterfuge based on your assumptions about my deficiencies. My actions were a surprise I planned because I wanted to show you how much I love you."

Rachel thought...well, okay...yes. That was probably accurately stated. But still. "It's only because I'm wildly excited by this news that _you_ won't be sleeping on the floor tonight, Quinn Fabray, listening to me sing along with _Grease 2. _Loudly._" _

Quinn glanced at her although she didn't have too. Rachel gave off a vibratory energy you could feel if you chose to pay attention to it. Other people evidently could choose not to but she'd never had a choice in the matter, from the moment she'd met her in first grade. She always felt her. That had irritated the fuck out of her for ten years and had overjoyed her from the moment she realized she loved her.

She could feel Rachel was not angry at all. She was deeply pleased.

"You really want to marry me again, Quinn?"

"I do. Ooh! Get it? That was a little marriage joke."

Rachel kicked her foot on the car floor. "I want you to pull over so we can make up right now but Officer Miller's in Ohio and you know how we are in cars."

"Our protection's somewhere behind us."

"It's not the same as him, though."

Quinn smiled at the Wyoming sky. "No it's not. Tonight?"

"Tonight."

* * *

**This chapter was getting long and meandering but it is what it is. I let them off their leashes and there they go. These people. I know that'll mean fewer people will review but thank you, all of you, for reading. The end of this particular part of the story soon.  
**

**ETA: I've had this criticism many times before. Rachel's family treats her like a child. Well. **

**For years, I dated a person in the Royal Shakespeare Theater. She needed applause to live. She needed attention and affirmation to live. All the time, 24/7/365. Oh the times I chose, read, watched and critiqued her monologues, ran lines with her, told her she was fantastic, pretty, perfect, etc. etc. etc. (She actually happened to truly be just that great, fortunately, or I would have bolted.) And you think that was just me getting over? Hell no. That's what she needed like a wolf needs meat. You don't know unless you've lived with it. It's like oxygen for some people.  
**

**Sound like anyone in this story? It was just her and she couldn't help it but it was/is childish. Not childlike. Childish. To imagine the world revolves around you is childish. That does not mean people who are so constituted can't be amazing and lovable and loving because they certainly can.  
**

**I think I've written Rachel as someone who's like that but has made an effort to look outside herself. A big and painful concerted effort to look outside herself and be more to the people around her.  
**

**I mean to write Quinn and Santana as people who are equally or more imperfect but meet Rachel, with the deepest affection and fondness, with the attention she needs. They call her on it but give it to her because she needs it. And yes, her need for attention is her but it's childish. They accept that. And give her what she needs because, in their home, it's just an adorkable personality trait they love. Not something pathological, which it could be outside of a loving home.**

**I write Brittany as the perfect being on Earth that she is. Period.**

**YMMV. Sorry.  
**


	79. Chapter 79

**It's Not Like I Wanted This to Happen**

**AU and I don't own these people. Well, I own the version of them I've created but their origins I leave to their true progenitors. Thank you, RIB. A short chapter to round out the last one. Rachel-centric. **

**Le sigh, right? But whatever. I love Rachel Berry.**

* * *

Quinn had called Kyd to ask permission for Rachel to visit the set. He'd agreed but was wildly nervous about it. He admitted to being an enormous fan of Rachel's. Quinn had not known this. Evidently there was a show music fan trapped in the body of her virtually newbie director.

Quinn wore no make-up, a sweatshirt and track pants to the set. Why bother? Her make-up would be done on set, her 'wardrobe' for the day would be determined by her scenes. On every set she showed up looking like a schlub. She'd found out on her second movie that this read to the insecure, and who wasn't on a movie set, as her intentionally giving everyone a bit of a burn because she still looked better than people who made a lot of effort. That interpretation amused her enough to continue.

Rachel wore black skinny jeans, black flats and a red v-neck pashmina sweater that was so form-fitting that Quinn immediately thought it would look so very much better on the floor next to their bed. It was so form-fitting it was obvious that Rachel wasn't wearing a bra. She didn't really need one and Quinn had completely evolved on that issue and didn't care at all. If Rachel wanted to make a point, or two if she were going to be a high school boy about it, point on.

When they arrived, the crew had already finished a few shots.

Quinn smiled at Kyd as she led Rachel to meet him. "Kyd Bennett, Rachel Berry."

Rachel shook hands with him. "Thank you for extending the courtesy of allowing my presence on your set." She paused, "And please realize I talk in hyper-formal English when I'm nervous."

He smiled at her. "Don't be nervous. I can do it for you. I don't even know what to say. I saw you in After All and it was one of the most amazing theatre experiences of my life. Thank you."

Rachel smiled up at him, "Thank you so much. I so appreciate someone as talented as you are saying that. _Thank_ you. I was lucky to even be cast in it."

"They were lucky to find you, Ms. Berry."

"Call me Rachel."

"Call me Kyd." He decided that was enough. He could and wanted to fanboy with her for the rest of the day but they all had jobs to do.

He raised his voice, "Okay people. As you can see, Quinn's here and she doesn't need much to get ready. 20 minutes."

Quinn winced. Not the way to make her popular. Oh well. She didn't know shit about acting. She wasn't a Method actor. She hadn't been trained, except by her parents and life. She didn't need to 'prepare.' They beat makeup on her, gave her clothes to wear and she walked to her mark and said her lines.

Rachel said, "May I sit in your chair and wait for you, Quinn?"

"Don't want to see my trailer?"

"Of course but you need to do wardrobe and makeup and you know how I love movie sets."

Quinn did know it but lifted one eyebrow. "Don't get into trouble while I'm gone."

Rachel smiled, "Me?"

* * *

Quinn squeezed her hand and walked away. Rachel looked at the buzzing energy surrounding her. She loved all the minutiae of making movies. What was often truly tedious was always exciting to her. She saw a young man approaching Kyd. Ah. John Amberg. A very attractive, almost pretty, man although he was ruggedly built. Blond hair, blue eyes. Tall for an actor which meant on the short side of normal. Maybe 5'9".

She turned as she heard a female voice say loudly, "Kyd? Is this really the yellow page scene for 55 because I missed the pink if it is."

There she was. Julia Frederick. Shouting to her director from about twenty yards away. Very petite. Very pretty. Cascading ringlets of red hair, pale blue eyes and skin more like milk than Kurt's. Julia evidently thought a lot of herself or she would have asked a production assistant or the script supervisor, not bothered her director.

Kyd shouted back. "Work with the yellow."

"Got it. 15?"

"Yep."

And again, no etiquette. Asking a director a question a PA should field. Rachel thought to herself _no me gusta_.

Rachel had read the script after Quinn and had loved it. It was gritty and witty and ultimately heart-warming. It was about a team of three grifters on the run after they'd messed up badly with bad people in Vegas. They landed in a small town in Wyoming, nearly out of money. Faced with culture shock in a small town with people unrelentingly better and smarter than they were, no matter how many scams and confidence tricks they tried to run on them because they just couldn't help themselves.

It was charming. She could immediately see Quinn, Puck and Santana in the roles.

* * *

Quinn walked out and Rachel felt a thrill run over her. Quinn was wearing a very nice and tailored women's business suit but clothes never made the man or the woman. The same clothes on a Mafia don always looked different than on a corporate businessman. Quinn was an upper middle-class WASP and yet the attitude she assumed and the slightest shading of her walk made the clothes seem decidedly seedy and slightly sinister. A grifter. Quinn was an excellent actor.

Rachel smiled thinking that sinister meant the left side, among its more usual connotations and denotations. She kicked her foot in the air. Ha! She would remind Santana of that with a text.

Quinn crossed to her own chair which Rachel was in-hobbit-ing and tapped her affectionately on the nose. "You like?"

Rachel took two breaths before answering, whispering, "I do. Get it? I'm marrying you again."

"I do. Get it? Good for me."

John, Julia and Quinn ran through the scene and did coverage a few times before Kyd called 'CUT'. They worked very well together.

Everything was always out of sequence on a movie set. They did two more scenes and Kyd called, "20 minutes and lunch, people. Then 20 minutes and 34."

Rachel watched as John didn't bother to do what any true professional would do. Introduce himself to a visitor of importance on the set.

Julia smirked at her and then it was on like Donkey Kong, or that's what maybe...perhaps...someone cool would say. Maybe. Rachel knew she was not particularly cool.

John first.

Quinn didn't even ask Rachel to her trailer. This was a bucket list, vision quest thing for her girl and she felt her eyes stinging as she watched her tiny wife doggedly follow John to his trailer. John was too much of a pussy to hurt Rachel physically so she didn't fear that. She felt sure John was about to get a Glee Club lesson.

* * *

"John Amberg?"

He turned and faced her. "Yes?

"I'm Rachel Berry. As you know. I'll take perhaps three minutes of your time."

John had no idea how to deal with this extremely famous person in front of him.

"Who am I John? To you?"

He knew exactly who and what she was but said, "Nobody."

"Excellent!" She gave him her show smile. "Then it'll be one nobody to another! Let's do this privately!" She marched up the stairs and into his trailer and when he entered, slammed the door behind them.

"Please take a seat and let me explain something to you."

He sat on his sofa only to get whatever she had to say finished and out of his trailer. He didn't need a scene outside and he knew Kyd would not put up with his throwing this woman out or raising his voice. Kyd was really old school with women.

Rachel smiled at him even as she said, "You're doing this wrong. I apologize in advance if some of what I'm about to say to you is unsettling. I read the trades. I know you know you're on the cusp of a big career jump and that can feel like the most exciting and magical place you can be. But treating people who've achieved more than you have with disdain makes you look small, John. It reeks of insecurity, John. People can actually smell it, John. Do you know what it smells like? It smells like B-list. It smells like second team. It smells like also ran. Let me pull a little rank here because I certainly can. I am only five years older than you are. Do you think I got my Emmys, my Grammys, my Tony and my Oscar through being so insecure and jealous I couldn't even bother to say 'Good morning' to the people I was working with?"

He frowned at the floor.

"Right. The answer is no. I know my worth and act like I do. I promise you I am the most obnoxious and diva-tistical person you will ever meet. That said, I've learned to respect and value the accomplishments of others and I know that working with talented people who have achieved what I have not can only better me. If you're wondering, Quinn didn't send me because she doesn't care about how you're behaving. She doesn't care at all. You show up and do your job. That's all she needs from a co-star."

She pointed at him.

"But I do care when I see a talented person damaging a potentially wonderful career because no one has bothered to tell him the truth. The truth is that Broadway and Hollywood are incredibly small places built on relationships and reputations. The way you're acting is not making relationships and it's giving you a reputation. If you think the way you're acting won't get around, think again. All these big and little people on set have mouths and cell phones. Look at where I am in my career and look at where you are in yours and even if it hurts to hear this, you'd better believe I know what I'm talking about. I had a very helpful smack in the side of my head about art and attitude from a tremendously scarier woman than I am when I was sixteen."

"I cried over it for days but I got through it. You can, too. You can be better, John. I see the warmth and wit in you when you act. But you're jealous and anxious and want it all at once. I did too. It will happen when it happens. You do not have to be everyone's BFF but my entirely unsolicited advice to you in is to A) Be kind to _everyone _because in Hollywood one day they're grips or production assistants and the next day they're producers. They will remember the way you treated them. B) Learn to laugh at yourself because when you do that people laugh with you, not at you and C) Even if you don't feel it yet, John, _act_ like you're an A-lister. An A-lister with a soul inside you instead of hollow place waiting for applause to fill it. It makes for a happier life. I promise that's true. Thank you for the courtesy of having listened to me. I apologize for being presumptuous in talking to you this way and for taking four minutes of your time instead of three."

And like a whirlwind that had just casually thrown him completely off his axis, she left and he stared at the empty spot where she'd been standing. He'd never met anyone in his life who spoke in rapid-fire paragraphs and seemed to have bulleted speaking points. He laughed for a few seconds and then began to cry.

He wanted so badly to make it big. It was right around the corner and he was so deeply frightened of losing his grip and failing, of losing his grip and falling.

Maybe it wasn't her fault, but people like Quinn Fabray made it look so easy. When it wasn't.

It wasn't.

* * *

John joined the crew for lunch, which he did not usually do. Quinn always stayed with the crew for lunch and nodded at him as he took a seat. Quinn sat next to Rachel at one of two long lunch tables and Kyd plonked down next to Rachel. "Okay, Rachel. Bonifac Vacek came out of retirement for you. What was that like?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. Just what she loved. Theatre talk. And yet, she did. Because it was an affirmation for Rachel. Many people at the table stopped talking to listen.

"To be honest, Kyd, and I promise you this is true, on the day I went to meet with him, I was so terrified when I looked at myself in the mirror I didn't see my own face. I literally saw a baby seal waiting to be clubbed."

"The_ fuck_?" Quinn barked out a laugh and the others laughed with her, "Excuse my language everyone. _What_? You never told me that."

Rachel took a sip of her tea. "Yes. I felt some time needed to go by before I put that image in your head, Quinn. Also you would tell Santana. After that experience, I'm not unaware my eyes can look very baby-seal-ish. Although I'm aware that you, Brittany and Santana would murder anyone who even attempted to club me, Santana would also never let me live it down. On to your question Kyd, Bon is a very imposing person as I'm sure you might imagine..."

As Rachel spoke, Quinn was delighted because Kyd was so interested and so delighted. As they spoke, Quinn saw he really did know and love the theatre and it meant something very important to him to have a first-hand encounter with Rachel and even a second-hand encounter with a director of Vacek's stature. Rachel thrilled him by summing her encounter up with, "Next time you're in New York, call us and I'll call Bon and we could go to lunch. I'm sure he'd love to meet you."

"Are you kidding me?"

Rachel shrugged. "Of course not. Bon's very dour but he's also deeply kind and very witty once you get used to his Czech delivery, which is as dry as dust. I think you'd like him and if you want full verklempt Eastern Bloc terror, I could throw in Irena Sokoll if she's in town."

Kyd's eyes widened, "Really?"

Julia took that moment to say, "Oh listen to that. I think I heard another name drop."

Rachel put a hand on Quinn's arm and Kyd's before they could say anything. "Hello, Julia Frederick. I'm sorry we haven't had the chance to be introduced. I'm Rachel Berry._ That_ was a name drop and the biggest one I'm fairly certain you'll ever actually be having lunch with."

Oh-ho. Quinn blinked. O_kay_. That was both actually really bitchy and self-aggrandizing. Quinn heartily approved.

Rachel immediately turned and smiled at John, who was seated across from her, "You're from Minnesota, aren't you, John?"

John had been slightly pleased by the snark at Julia but was startled to have the attention suddenly on him and that she knew where he was from. He'd made the effort to come to lunch but had hoped he could get out without talking to anyone. And he knew he had to answer or face the wrath of Kyd. "Yes. I was born and raised there."

"Sorry. I always Google all Quinn's cast-mates. You were All-State in hockey all four years in high school, right? "

"I was."

"I will tell you, John, although our high school fielded a hockey team—or placed them on ice—so to speak and don't I wish, I never watched because our hockey players were inordinately predisposed to bully me. Now that we've spoken privately, I'm sure you're not surprised. Consequently, I understand nothing about the sport but our partner Brittany, who I'm sure you're aware is a dancer and yes that was another name drop, Julia, loves to watch it. She has tried to explain the rules and the artistry of it but, because I'm evidently invincibly ignorant, finally settled on saying I should watch it like it's mixed martial arts dancing on ice. Do you concur?"

John actually laughed, which surprised the rest of the cast and crew. It was the first time he'd laughed on set. "Oh yeah. It's a dancing on ice cage match choreography with huge padded guys chasing something incredibly tiny. Even when I've been playing sometimes, I've thought what in the hell am I _doing_?"

Quinn smiled at him, "John? See? That's the story of my life. Chasing something tiny and wondering what the hell I'm doing."

Everyone got the joke and laughed when Rachel smacked Quinn's arm and scowled at her.

John smiled at his hamburger because he wasn't ready to smile at anyone yet.

Quinn thought that was a good start.

* * *

After lunch, Kyd called 20 and Julia walked away. Rachel followed her and corralled her outside her trailer. "Julia?"

The woman wheeled around and spat, "What?"

"I have something I need to say to you."

"I have eighteen minutes before I have to go to work. Can you say it in three because I actually have a job to do. Unlike you."

The attitude Julia was throwing gave Rachel a green light.

"Understood. I will speak rapidly because, of course, you're personally such a professional. I surprised Quinn coming here, Julia. She didn't ask for me to because she can take care of herself. Quinn believes you're a talented actor and I do too, actually. She thinks you could have a great career. But personally, she also thinks you're irritating and pathetic. How about no for an answer, Julia?"

"Leave her alone. The reason I'm even talking to you is to warn you. If you keep this up, Quinn will show you something. She is the most vicious and cruel person I've ever known. She can and will say things to you about you that you will never forget in front of everybody on this set. She doesn't want to do that to you. If you don't listen to reason and she feels forced into that, she'll tell me. If you make her go there? You know I'll be on the red carpet right next to Quinn when this movie opens in LA and New York and I swear to you I will say how wonderful it is that a young actress like you is out and proud like we are."

"_What_?"

"Aren't you proud to be all out and proud, Julia?"

Julia stood for a few seconds and said, "You're threatening to _out_ me? _You_?"

Embarrassingly enough, it made Rachel truly frightened to be mean and to scare this person. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

"Why _not_ me, Julia? I live my life honestly and openly. That said, I would never out you in a million years but you're hitting on my wife, who isn't interested. You're making her unhappy. You might not have anyone who cares for you or loves you for obvious and understandable reasons but she happens to have me. If you keep it up and make her mean to you and believe me that will happen, I'd have no compunction about outing you. I'd laugh at your getting the entirely unwanted attention you're giving Quinn now."

Rachel laughed at the look of sheer horror on Julia's face. It wasn't a nice laugh. "Okay. I was kidding. I actually wouldn't do that."

Her expression hardened, "I'd do worse." She took another deep breath and said things in a way she never had in her life.

"Professional etiquette only with my wife from now on. I've known her since the year you were born, you dumbass. I love her and I'm _married_ to her, Julia, and you only want to fuck her. That will never happen because that's _my_ job, bitch, and won't ever be yours. Believe it. Keep it up, make her mean and I can promise I will poison your professional well forever. Try me."

Rachel took one step forward and Julia stepped back.

"Name drop? _Fuck _you. Got that? Let's see how fucking you might go. Quinn will never work with you again. I won't. Zac Sargeant won't. Santana scores movies and knows the world, by the way. No go with her. No one we know will work with you. Do you understand how big we are? How many directors and producers we know and want to work with us? How many actors want to work with us? God forbid I should tell Bonifac because that would be, as I believe they call it in the military, a fucking blanket party on your career. Keep it up and I'll make that happen. Happily. John's star's looking bright but keep fucking with my wife and I promise you that you'll be begging to land a gig on some ridiculous reality TV show featuring used-to-be or never-quite-were people. Push her twice and I'll knock you on the ground with a bloody nose, a black eye and a brand new job as a Wal-Mart greeter. If you're even that lucky, little girl. Try me."

After three seconds, Rachel smiled derisively. "Nothing to add, Julia?"

Julia blinked.

Rachel nodded. "Didn't think so."

* * *

Rachel turned and walked away, feeling like she was going to vomit. She stomped into Quinn's trailer, closed the door and burst into tears. "Being mean is horrible!"

Quinn rushed to hug her. "Oh angel. Were you mean?"

"Don't make fun!" Rachel said as she buried her head in Quinn's chest and sobbed, "I said bitch and fuck you and I was vulgar and said it was my job to fuck you not hers and I threatened her career and I threatened her with physical harm! I don't know how you and Santana did it all those years."

Quinn was absolutely gobsmacked and wished she had the video tape but rocked Rachel gently, "It's a gift, Frodo. You have it or you don't. You usually have to work up to the big time but sounds like you jumped in the deep end. Are you okay, sweetie?"

Rachel disengaged herself from the hug, wiped her eyes and said, "Although I feel thoroughly discombobulated and nauseated, I can acknowledge I feel curiously satisfied having fucked someone up."

Quinn clapped her hands together and laughed. "_That's_ my girl! YES!" She pulled her back into a hug and whispered, "Thank you, Rachel."

Rachel smiled and hugged Quinn tightly, "_De nada_, Quinn."

Quinn smiled and she kissed Rachel on her head.

Rachel pulled away from the hug and held up her left hand.

Quinn held hers up and they bonked the metal together and said, "Clank."

Married.


	80. Chapter 80

**It's Not Like I Wanted This to Happen**

**AU and I don't own these people. Well, I own the version of them I've created but their origins I leave to their true progenitors. Thank you, RIB. **

**Micro-chapter.**

**Age 29**

* * *

Puck and Sam had just gotten back from dinner with the kids and their mothers. Puck tossed his coat on the couch and Sam went into the kitchen and brought them both a beer.

They opened them and tapped them together before taking a sip.

"Puckzilla. I've been thinking a lot lately and I want to talk to you about something. Assume the position, dude."

He smiled. He rested his back against the armrest on one end of their ultra-comfy couch and she rested hers on the other. They piled their legs on top of each other's.

She took another sip of beer. "I want to listen to what I'm going to say and listen like I've listened to you in the past, okay. No interruption."

The serious look on her face made his heart sink, "Is something wrong?"

"No. Not really. And don't interrupt again."

He nodded.

"I want you to know I am so happy to be your wife and I plan on spending the rest of my life with you. It's too girly for me but I'll say it anyway. You're like a dream come true for me, dude. I also want you to know that I love those four crazy women you invited into my life like they're my sisters. They feel like family to me. Okay—hold up. Actually only three are crazy. Brittany's sane. They feel like family to me. And of course the children. They're your children, so they're my children. I feel like one of their parents and that's really the most amazing feeling I've ever had. Children. With you."

Puck took a sip of beer and didn't feel better hearing the tone in her voice.

"I can't have biological kids with you. I won't."

Puck felt his extremities lose blood and it showed on his face but he kept quiet.

"I'll tell you why. I looked at Brittany tonight because she's the barometer, Puck, just like you told me before we met her. She's the one to look to, to find out if everyone's okay. If she's okay, everyone is. She might not be totally happy because who the fuck is but she's okay. We have a Big Love family what the fuck situation but it's working. It's our new normal but this family's like a race car that runs perfectly because it's finely calibrated and tuned. If we had a mom and pop Toyota Corolla family, we probably could tolerate anything. A Formula One car can't stand any deviation in its situation. We have a Formula One car family, Puck. We can't fuck it up. It wouldn't be fair to QSBR or to the kids."

Tears welled in Puck's eyes and he rested his beer on his chest.

"Seriously, bro. How could we have a child? We'd have a kid and that child would live with us, right? While the other kids live with them. Even though we'd see each other every day and even when they're siblings, at the end of the day, they'd live in different homes. Don't you think that'd be weird for them? It's not like Beth, sweetie. You're not her parents. But we're all involved with these kids. No matter what our feelings are, their biological parents are parenting."

"So we can call it whatever we do, but you are the father of these children. Santana and Rachel are the mothers. The rest of us are parents. Fine. How would it feel for the child or children we had to be kept apart because their mother and father were actually together? When they're siblings? I don't think it'd be good for them at all. Before you even go there, I love you and I love all of your children's mothers but I'm not living with them, okay? I don't have a commune in me. I want_ you_ at the end of the day. I've reached my limit so I'm giving you mine. I want the children we have. But no. No more children."

Puck sat with that for a full minute and then whispered, "That's so unfair for you, Sam."

Sam nodded, "Yep. The whole situation's been unfair for me. See, it's because you're a guy you don't understand what you did. I walked in with my eyes open and you didn't. Oh well. Let's see. If my main significant ex, Jeff, wanted to have a baby and I said, "Sorry Puckzilla, Jeff needs a kid. I gotta go help a brotha out. And by the way, move to Wisconsin and raise it with him. Come with?"

"That's what you asked me to do, Puck, and again I walked in knowing it. I knew it and I don't regret it because you're worth it. Fuck, I know now why all four of them are worth it to you but that's what you did. It's like sometimes you can't see that I spend nearly every day of my life with the mothers of my man's children. I don't count Beth because she was there before you knew me. But you made three children with two women I have to deal with on a daily basis who had my man's children after we were engaged. If I were an insecure bag of slop, it wouldn't be pretty."

"But I'm not. I feel completely secure with you and with our fucked up extended family."

She took a long sip of her beer. "So secure that I want it just the way it is so it can work out for all of us. I won't have a biological child with you. It wouldn't be fair to that child or for the rest of the people you invited into our lives. I'm sorry. No kids. You have four children, Puck. I have four children. I don't need more."

Puck began to weep and Sam didn't help him. After two minutes she kicked him. Really, really hard. "Bitch? We have four perfectly healthy and amazing kids. Are we arguing?"

He looked at her. Really looked at her. He'd let another woman down and yet again, he was being let off the hook by a woman who was too good for him and meant it. He half-smiled at her. In complete wonder at his wife. "No."

Sam sat up and laughed to give him a pass. "Right. Don't think I don't know you only wanted me pregnant because I might get some sign of tits but I'm not making a person because you wish I had a B cup, bro. Call of Duty now. We need to kill shit because this emotional shit isn't working for me one damn bit. How 'bout you?"

"Sucks right?"

"Donkey balls."

He jumped up and loaded it. He knew they'd be married forever. Guys together forever.

But when they'd cracked open another beer and were ready to play, Sam said, "Noah?"

She never called him Noah.

He looked at her.

"In life, you sometimes get the people you deserve, baby boy. You get people who love and need and want you in their lives because you deserve them. I think you're doing pretty well, personally. And that ends the totally girl segment of this evening. Prepare for carnage, fucker! Let's play!"

He smiled and kissed her. She smiled through the kiss. And meant it.


	81. Chapter 81

**It's Not Like I Wanted This to Happen**

**AU and I don't own these people. Well, I own the version of them I've created but their origins I leave to their true progenitors. Thank you, RIB. **

**I'm working on the ending chapters. This is a MICRO CHAPTER. No need to read or review.  
**

* * *

**Age 25**

Brittany walked away from the family home, the nest. Knowing that two men were following her to protect her because San had paid them to. She refused to hail a cab. She went subway. That was sort of mean for the guys following her but they'd been paid so whatever.

She hated being protected now and couldn't say she hated it because it would super hurt San.

It confused her and she hated that. Really, really hated that. She knew San had talked to Rach about this protection but she hadn't talked to her. She didn't really understand if she should feel bad about that. Sometimes she didn't know if it was just her being stupid like always or if it was a real thing she could say like someone who was smart could. She could totally be real with San about most things but not about a few things and those few things felt like stepping on broken glass. At this point she felt like her feet were bleeding all the time.

She hated being treated like a kid but she couldn't say no because she knew it would hurt San. She hated knowing she was dumb and not saying even that because it would hurt San. The list went on and on. It felt all the time since they got grown-up like she was protecting Santana instead of the other way around.

She wiped the tears from her eyes because maybe the guys following her would tell San she'd been crying.

San might ask her why. As if she could ever say why.

* * *

A week later, Santana reluctantly offered to escort Rachel to a movie none of them wanted to see, which left Brittany and Quinn alone in their home.

"Okay! Let's see what _we'll_ see, Britts."

"Pick something scary or something."

Quinn hesitated, "I'm not supposed to do that."

"And I'm not a baby, Q. If I fall over, it won't hurt me and I won't die and it'll pass in like thirty seconds and you won't care, will you?"

"Not a bit."

"Just pick something you think we'd like—and don't make it Disney for God's sake. I'm a grown-up."

That was so very, very wrong or maybe right. Quinn didn't know and leaned back into the couch and softened her voice. "What's wrong, Brittany?"

Brittany. No one but Rachel ever really reliably called her Brittany. Britts, Brit Brit, Baby B. Little words for a little person.

Brittany shrugged. "Nothing. I'm tired. Just ignore me."

"No. I won't. You're my girl. Tell me. Who's in charge?"

Brittany grinned down at her lime green Converse sneakers. "You."

"Tell me. Just between us."

"You won't tell? Really?"

Quinn took her hand, "Unless it involves your physical health, never."

Brittany took a deep breath and she worked through, haltingly, saying, "I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm dumb and all that and I know it but I'm a professional and people respect me in the world but sometimes when I come home it feels like I'm right back in high school or even grade school because," and she whispered like it was a dread secret, "San sometimes treats me that way in a way, if you know what I mean."

Quinn immediately put two fingers gently over Brittany's mouth. "Don't say one more word, Brittany, unless you really need to. Don't explain. I know. And I know how much you love her and I know it hurts you to say that, right? Saying more unless you need to will make you feel disloyal and I know it. Nod if you understand."

Brittany nodded.

Quinn removed her fingers and patted the woman's cheek. "I understand that she's never learned to take the hammer off the pedal with you. I'll help her, okay?"

Brittany sighed, "Promise? Really?"

"I will, sweetie, but you know Santana. I'll have to be really easy and subtle about it, okay? Because it's you and you're the prize. It might take even a few months but I promise I'll get her to ease off of you. I promise with all my heart. I can do that. Again, who's in charge?"

Brittany smirked, "You bitch."

Brittany sighed as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course you can."

"You know I'm not Catholic even though I sorta am because I've been going to Catholic church with San like forever, right?"

Quinn nodded.

"And you're Episcopalian and that means Catholic without the calories, sorta, right?"

"Or certain rites, right."

"Sometimes, I hear stuff and look around in church and Santana's totally Archangel Michael. Don't tell but I pray a rosary every day for all of us, since I learned it when I was a little kid. When I say my zillion Hail Marys, I've always only seen your face. Forever. Since we were six. Hail Mary. Full of grace. The Lord is with thee."

Quinn blinked as if stunned. Brittany saw immediately that with those words and like a wild animal, Quinn had been somehow shot and hurt and scared but living and needed to be let go.

She didn't say a word.

Quinn sniffed and mustered a smile and said, "We're watching _Saw_ tonight and I can promise you that you'll keel over before the night is through."

"Really? _Cool_!"

* * *

Within eleven weeks, Brittany felt Santana's mania ease and ease and ease and within four months she felt like her wife was someone different. Not really different but different enough, at least.

After fifteen weeks, on movie night, Brittany displaced Rachel and snuggled with Quinn. The only big sister she'd ever had.

* * *

**A/N Place holder. It's ending very soon. Promise!**

**ETA: Most of you probably aren't Catholics or Episcops. The Hail Mary is a sacred prayer to the Mother of Jesus, which all of us of both faiths recite daily. Take from that what you will in this chapter. **


	82. Chapter 82

**A/N: Previous disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Except for the part that it was short.**

**This is a kid chapter. Skip if you don't like 'em. I do understand some people don't. Really. I understand.**

**Age 26**

* * *

Beth was beside herself to see her little brothers and sister. It had taken a month since they'd been born for Shelby and Beth to get to New York. Rachel said nothing about the visit. Quinn had tried to talk about it but Rachel would only say she was excited to see Beth.

Beth, at nearly eleven, was already Rachel's height and rail thin by design, not by diet. Quinn was both proud and sad that the kid was gorgeous, knowing what that would mean for her. She and Puck met her together many times every year. Rachel visited Beth just as often, but separately. Today, Beth was followed by Shelby as she ran into the house and threw herself into Quinn's arms. "Quinn! I have brothers and a little sister!"

Quinn hugged her tightly. "You do, sweetheart." She kissed her on the cheek and said, "Give Puck a hug or he'll be jealous."

Sam smiled as Beth rushed Puck, saying "Daddy!" He picked her up in a hug and swung her around. Sam didn't know how much more she could love her man when she saw him with Beth. Beth had decided at about age 9.5 to stop calling Puck Noah and start calling him Daddy. Quinn remained Quinn, for reasons the woman completely understood but still stung. Now that Beth was used to them, she was much more effusive.

Brittany, Santana and Sam were holding babies. "Is that them!? Oh my gosh! I want to hold them. Mom said I had to sit down and taught me how to hold them with one of my dolls from when I was a kid so their heads won't flop around so don't worry." She remembered herself, "Oh sorry. Hi, Santana, Brittany, Sam and Rachel."

Shelby smiled at all of them, "Hi, everyone. Beth takes over—as you can see. Hi, Rachel."

"Hello, Shelby."

Everyone in the room winced at the coldness in Rachel's voice.

Beth could feel the tension and said, "Big sis?"

At that voice, Rachel did smile and her voice warmed, "Bethany?"

"My name's just Beth. You know that."

"I do know that. It's a nickname."

"Nicknames are shorter usually."

"I know that, too. But you can call me…Rachelrorschach if you want."

Beth smiled at her, "Don't say things you don't mean or I will. It's like when Mom says 'your face will freeze that way' when I make ugly faces."

The girl had taken a seat in a chair in preparation for baby holding. Rachel kissed her on the forehead and knelt down beside her.

Beth said, "I know that word Rorschach, Rachel. It's like they show you pictures of weird stuff and ask you what you see, right?"

"Right."

Beth looked at her, really looked at her, and said, "I see…my beautiful big sister."

Rachel beamed at her, "This kid gets an A! And not so big anymore. I'm your beautiful older sister now because you're as tall as I am already and I'm not all that happy about that. We have three flavors of infant, Beth. Which one first?"

"Sorry daddy, but I have to hold Quinn first."

Brittany placed the little boy, who was clothed in a Silver Surfer onesie, in the little girl's arms. Rachel moved away as Shelby knelt beside her to make sure the girl held him properly. Beth looked at him—wondered at him, actually, and smiled with delight. "He's so little! Hi, Quinn. I'm your big sister Beth."

Little Quinn blinked up at her and waved his hands and Beth laughed. "Oh my gosh! Look at him! Look at his tiny little fingers!"

Shelby petted the little boy's head. "He's beautiful."

Brittany said, "You need to meet Noah, Beth. He's our troublemaker." She took little Quinn and Santana put Noah, who was in a Batman onesie, in Beth's arms.

Beth looked at him and then at her father. "He looks just like you, daddy."

Puck raised one eyebrow and grinned at her, "I like to think so."

Shelby laughed. "My God, just look at that. He sort of has a Mohawk already."

"His hair's just growing in that way, poor little effer," Santana said. "And may I say that not cursing for the sake of the children is seriously impairing my ability to convey my emotions?"

Rachel was unperturbed, "If you can only convey your emotions through profanity, Santana, I'd say that was a problem you should have addressed, hmmm…as I remember…when you were about twelve?"

"Do you want me to hit you, midget?"

"Beth, Santana isn't serious. No worries. She has never and would never hit me. She worships the ground I walk on."

Santana gaped in outrage at this statement and Brittany and Quinn actually laughed out loud because it was absolutely true.

"You know what? The eff ever. Okay. Give little Noah up and you'll meet Berry."

Santana glared at Rachel as she took Noah and Sam put Berry in Beth's arms.

Shelby looked at the baby, in her Superman onesie and silently began to cry. Beth liked the little baby right away but she immediately felt really tense because she was just like a little Rachel, which had to be weird for her mom. And for Rachel. She looked from her mom, who looked really happy-sad to Rachel who looked really, really angry.

Rachel said, "As you can see, Shelby, if you were my mother, you'd be a grandmother. But you weren't, you aren't and you can't keep her either. Not that you'd be interested."

She turned and stormed out. Everyone in the room was appalled and Quinn moved to go after her. Shelby barked quietly, "No! This is me, Quinn. And her. It's me. Beth, stay with your mother. Everything will be okay. Where did she go?"

"Second door on the left."

* * *

Shelby opened the door and found Rachel crying on her bed and closed the door behind her. "That was completely irresponsible to say in front of Beth."

Rachel nodded as she cried, "I know. I'll apologize."

Shelby crossed, sat on the bed and said, "Are you in a place emotionally where you can hear me?"

Rachel nodded and continued to cry.

"When you see little Berry, can you imagine giving her away?"

Rachel shook her head no.

Shelby traced patterns on the bedspread with one finger.

"I was a surrogate, Rachel. I had a legal and moral obligation to give you to your fathers. When I saw you, when you'd finally arrived, your fathers were so happy. I suppose I should have been. I was young, I'd made a financial agreement to my great benefit and I knew your fathers would be wonderful parents. But I wasn't happy, Rachel. I was crushed because I hadn't known what it would be to give a child away. You were created and fed with my body and my blood and I was devastated to give you up but I had to do it. You know as well as I do I had to do it."

Shelby looked up at her. "I was wrong to turn you away when you approached me in high school. What did I say? Something like I needed an infant because that's the only way I could make memories, really bond? I was so wrong and I wasn't being honest with myself or with you. You showed up looking so much like me and sounding like an angel. It was like having God show me _this_ is what you could have had. _This_ is your punishment to see how beautiful and amazing the girl you made and gave away is. I forced you away because the fact of you was still so painful for me. If you can't believe me, look at how Quinn is with Beth even now. I know I hurt you badly. I know I did. Yes. And now I have Beth and she is my beloved daughter but she is not and never will be you, Rachel. She didn't replace you. No one will ever be more to me than you are, sweetheart."

Rachel felt like she'd been kicked in the chest and blinked through tears, "Really? You really love me?"

Shelby felt like her heart would break forever that her grown child should still need to ask that question. "Do you really love Berry?"

Rachel thought about the flood of emotions she felt just knowing her daughter existed. "Of course I do."

"I promise you I feel exactly the same way about you."

Rachel didn't reach for her mother. She huffed and hugged her pillow.

That made Shelby smile.

"Now, sweetheart, it's time to wipe your eyes and make an appearance or one of your tribe will think we've killed each other."

Rachel wiped her eyes and sighed as she sat up, "I know. Quinn will worry and give the go order, Santana will crash the door in like SWAT and Brittany will kill you. Puck and Sam will dispose of your body. It's like that in this family."

Shelby smiled again and very sweetly at her daughter, "Good to know."

A few moments passed.

Rachel's face was sad and her eyes were swollen. "You need to be more available. Quinn tries with Beth. Even I try with Beth. You should try with me. You should act like you want to see me if you do. You've been neglecting me."

"I know I have. Admitted and consider it done."

"I can't consider it done until you do it, Shelby. Even if you aren't interested in me, you should act like you are."

Shelby rolled her eyes. "For God's sake, Rachel, since you've started your career, I've compiled seventeen scrapbooks and made eleven dvds of youtubes of your performances and appearances. I play your music constantly. Beth loves you and your talent but she's almost gotten sick of your voice because I play it so much. And I _was_ at your debut on Broadway, by the way."

That profoundly shocked Rachel. "What?! And you didn't come backstage?"

"Of course I didn't. It was a night for being happy. I don't mean happy for you and you feel strange with me and your fathers in the same room and I know it. I wouldn't do that to you on your big night."

Rachel looked at her mother for a moment and asked longingly, "Did you think I was good?"

Shelby could scarcely believe Rachel could need affirmation from the person who'd, perhaps, failed her the most.

"I thought you were the most magical person I'd ever seen onstage. You were spectacular and I was so proud of you and my heart was racing double-time watching you the whole night. I kept thinking all the way through your performance, 'That's my baby. My baby.'"

Rachel began to cry again and hugged Shelby, who rocked her gently and rubbed gentle circles on her back. After about a minute, Rachel stopped crying and sighed deeply like a tiny baby does when it finally, finally feels or finds comfort and then Shelby began to cry because she'd never truly understood how much her baby needed it.

* * *

When they emerged from the bedroom, Beth was holding Little Quinn again and her eyes were glistening because she was worried.

Santana said sharply to Rachel because she could see the woman had been crying so she was ready to fuck Shelby up privately if the answer wasn't what she needed. "We okay?"

Rachel smiled. "Of course we are. Beth, except for the joy of simply looking at them, your other siblings are severely limited in entertainment value. As you know, it took me nearly to the age of 24 months to be dependably entertaining."

"However, I am your sister, too, and I can play Wii tennis with you. You will beat me, I promise."

Santana was relieved about the Shelby thing but still smarting from the whole worship ground walking on thing. "No offense, Beth, but a three-toed sloth could beat my midget at Wii tennis."

Rachel smiled and winked at Quinn. Knowing she was loved felt fantastic. "I will murder you later, Santana. Beth?"

"Wii tennis!"

As they rushed to the rec room, Quinn said to Santana. "Whipped."

"Britts? Sam, Puck? Put your hands over those babies' ears. Fuck you, Quinn."

Quinn kissed Santana on the side of the head, looked at Shelby and nodded. Shelby nodded at Quinn.

The children they'd given away had never gone too far away.

* * *

**31 Years Old.**

Zac Sargent was visiting his best friends on Earth. It was about five o'clock in the afternoon and he was reading while waiting for the dinner prep to start.

"_Konnichiwa, Tio_ Zac!" A five-year-old Berry announced as she ran into the room and clambered into his lap. She was still very, very tiny. Five inches shorter than her brothers. All three kids were multi-lingual. Santana spoke Spanish with them. Brittany always spoke English, Spanish and Japanese with them. Which was wildly go figure.

Santana, Mike and Brittany had done a lightning tour of Japan. After all the anime they'd watched, Brittany had bought a Learn Japanese! dvd. Because, as Brittany said, "I will eviscerate this slime monster doesn't make me cool enough to order food or ask for a bathroom, San. I'm just sayin'." She'd watched the dvd and studied and when she was in Japan, they'd found Brittany was evidently nearly fully fluent in Japanese, to their hosts' great consternation and joy. Brittany was now watching Bolly movies and listening to and learning Hindi. She picked up languages like polyester picked up lint. Little Quinn, Little Noah and Berry were still such small children they understood their mommy in any language.

* * *

"_Tio _Zac, I need a nap. LQ and Noah are tremendously enervating to me. I'm going to rest on you now, okay?"

Zac was always astonished. All of these kids had one hell of a vocabulary but this one already talked almost exactly like Rach. "Absolutely. Get your nap on, Beryl." She put her little head on his lower chest, immediately fell asleep and began to snore.

He grinned, lifted his Kindle and continued reading his novel.

Santana came in twenty minutes later, smiled and rolled her eyes. "Thought she'd be in here, Prince Charming. Gimme that one."

"She's not bothering me."

"I know but baby-sitting short people isn't your job. It's ours. Like, uh, even before we had kids if you get me."

Zac knew every person in the house was in love with Rachel but especially this one. He just smiled.

Santana gently lifted Berry from Zac's lap and shook her head in amusement. The child was as floppy as an overcooked linguini noodle. "These Berrys gets their sleep on. I'll shake her awake in a few. Read on, mister, but you have to be Master Chef in about thirty minutes."

"I suck at Master Chef."

"Sucks to be you then. Cap called it. But the mystery ingredient isn't live eel or some such bullcrap you have to kill with your bare hands and make ice cream out of so thank our vegetarian stars you only have to chop the un-living up, effer. And again? Did you notice how lame that sounded because I'm still trying to learn not to curse around these little effers and it's effing killing me?"

"You're so warm and maternal, S."

"As my Cap would say? Keep telling yourself that."

* * *

Surprisingly, Berry woke as they crossed down the hall and kicked a foot. "_Mami_! What are you doing? _Tio_ Zac was taking care of me!"

"He was trying to read, short-stack."

"I was helping him!" She wriggled in Santana's arms. "You're mean. Now I hate everyone!"

Santana placed the child on the ground. Berry's tirades delighted Santana. It was Rachel and yet not. Berry was a lot worse.

Berry took one look at her mother's very serious face, pointed at her and said, "You're making fun of me in your mind, _Mami_!

"You're right. I am."

"I'm mad at you now."

"Ruh roh, shawty."

Berry stamped her foot. "You're laughing at me in your mind!"

"Uh huh."

Berry shook her finger at her mother. "If I didn't love you!"

"If you didn't love me, what?"

Berry huffed and puffed as she looked into her mother's clearly amused eyes, then suddenly launched herself at Santana, who picked her up. The child drilled her head into the woman's chest "You're bad, _Mami_! You make me bad!"

Santana tickled her lightly for three seconds which made Berry giggle, then she stopped and said, "You are the most amazing child God has ever made right along with your brothers and sister, Beryl Pierce."

Berry sighed and hugged her _mami._ She liked being called Beryl Pierce because that was going to be her stage name. She knew it already.

"Where's my Mommy Rachel, _Mami_?"

"Cutting up peppers and onions for a stir-fry."

"We can help!"

"Not so much. We're left-handed and they can't handle watching us cut stuff up."

"We're correctly handed, _Mami_." She'd heard her_ mami_ say this.

"See? That's my girl. Right you are."

"Or left we are, _Mami." _

"Do you know how much I love you?"

"Yes." Berry did know. She felt something she didn't know some children never felt. Her parents loved her. All six of them. They adored her and her brothers and big sister.

"I'm still mad, _Mami_."

"Whatever."

"Not nice!"

"Look at my face, Berry. It's almost exactly like I don't even care."

Berry glared at Santana and said with menace in her voice, "I need to sing."

Santana ran her free hand through her hair. It was always déjà vu all over again with this kid. She gently put the child on her feet.

"What do you want to sing?"

Berry piped up and sang really very scarily well, "Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter! Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter! Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade!"

Santana rolled her eyes. She could throttle Rachel for teaching their child that song but she wanted to kiss Berry listening to her sing.

Berry continued and Little Quinn and Little Noah ran into the hall to watch her. They loved hearing Berry sing. As did Zac, Quinn, Rachel and Brittany as they quickly joined them.

"Hey Manhattan! Here I…am…" She looked up at Rachel. "You sing now, please?"

Rachel nodded to her child and knelt on her knees in the hallway. Zac felt the hairs rise on his arms as she gave it absolutely everything for her baby. She effortlessly blasted the rest of the song. It was perfect and so insanely and impressively loud he couldn't believe it. The little boys began to cry as they always did when Rachel sang.

They both loved it but were always a little frightened of the power of her voice. They rushed to hug her when she finished and she kissed their little heads. Berry didn't cry. She looked at her biological mother with deep satisfaction, smiled up at _Tio_ Zac and said "Me."

When Quinn heard that, she immediately picked the child up and said with real ferocity, "Oh no you don't, Miss Beryl Pierce Lopez. You are _not _Rachel Berry. You will _never_ be her and you'll only be _like_ her if you work every day to be as good as she is. Just because you look like her and have a pretty voice doesn't mean _anything_, little girl. _I_ know and your_ mami_ knows and your mommy knows and your daddy knows what it took to be her. Don't you dare say that ever again. Ever. You may be just as good or better than she is one day but you haven't earned any right—at all—to think you're her or even like her yet, Beryl."

None of the adults watching this knew how to react. Rachel didn't even know what to think about Quinn's rush to her defense against her own child. The little boys only knew Berry was in big trouble.

Berry was stupefied and immediately very sorry because Mommy Quinn was the scariest person ever sometimes. She looked into her angry face, batted her eyelashes and said, "I'm sorry."

"Good try. Generally, you know I'd fall for those eyelashes but do you know why you should be sorry?"

Berry thought about it and sighed, "I'm not Mommy Rachel but I think I am when I sing 'cause I look like her and I'm a show-off."

"Exactly. One. You are not your Mommy Rachel. You do look like her and have tons of talent but you have to earn your own way. Two? You_ are _a show-off but I adore show-offs. My best friend's your _mami_ and I married your mother. And three?" She kissed Berry's cheeks, "I love you so much more than I could ever tell you, little one."

"I love you too." Berry said as she rested her head on Quinn's chest and reached up to hold Quinn's right ear, a self-comfort gesture she'd made even as an infant and only with Quinn.

Quinn smiled down at her because that never failed to charm her, "Now that we've cleared that up, you're a truly wonderful and naturally talented singer, Berry. Isn't she guys?"

Little Quinn and Little Noah nodded.

* * *

Later, as Zac was tending the stir-fry, Rachel pulled Quinn aside and said, "We're not talking about what made you go off on Berry, are we?"

"Why talk? So I'm not mother of the year. I don't care. No one, not even my younger daughter, gets to draft off of you. Never. Not after what you went through. I resent it for that reason but I also don't think you know how easy it would be for that one to feel entitled rather than blessed. You were blessed but you worked and fought for what you are and have. She can fight too and she should, Rachel. I'll make her fight because you never would."

Rachel opened her mouth to respond, thought about it, and closed her mouth. Quinn was perfectly right.

* * *

A five year old Little Quinn walked into the family room where Quinn and Brittany were watching Law and Order. It was always on. Rachel was on set in Vermont. Santana was working in Atlanta.

"MQ?"

Little Quinn had decided that was a good name for Quinn. He called himself LQ.

He sat next to her and said, "I want hair like you and mommy."

Little Noah had vehemently fought to keep his Mohawk from the day he was two.

Little Quinn had nearly violently refused to let them cut his hair after his fourth birthday. It fell in dark, wavy ringlets nearly around his shoulders.

"What do you mean?"

"I want hair like you and Mommy."

"Son, what do you mean?"

"White hair—like you, MQ"

"Blond hair?"

He nodded.

Brittany smiled. "You don't have to have hair like ours. You're already like a super mix of me and MQ."

"I know that but I don't _look_ like you. I want to look like you. I don't want to be a girl and I'm not gay. I just want white hair."

Quinn raised one hand and her voice changed, "Did someone say you wanted to be a girl or were gay?"

"Mommy Rachel asked me if I didn't want to get my hair cut for a special reason. Like if I felt like I was a girl. Or if I liked boys like _Tio_ Kurt."

Brittany watched Quinn's mood instantly go from concern to wanting to scream at Rachel on the phone. She picked Little Quinn up off the couch and sat with him in her lap in a chair. He wrapped himself around his mommy. She was the only person he would actually cling to.

Quinn couldn't help but smile at the sight and Brittany patted him as she held him. "You know how I don't let you do some gym stuff I can do because you're too young and it makes you totally mad?"

He nodded.

"You're too young to worry about those things, baby bear. If you think of them all by yourself without anyone saying words to you and those feelings make you nervous or sad or even if you just want to talk about them, you can always talk to us and we won't be mad or weirded out or anything. It's not wrong for you to want to have long hair or even to make it a different color. It doesn't mean anything but those words. Long hair. Different color. Me and MQ just want you to know we feel like you're ours even though you don't look like us."

He gripped her tighter. "I want white hair."

"Not white, right? Hair like ours?"

"Hair like your hair and MQs and boy Sam's and girl Sam's."

Brittany winked at Quinn, "MQ and boy Sam look like brother and sister, don't they?"

"Totally. Except for the mouth."

Quinn laughed.

"We'll look at ways to make your hair blond that won't hurt it. Making your hair blond can hurt your hair if we're not careful. Okay?"

"Thank you mommy."

She put him down and he ran to his MQ. "Are you mad at Mommy Rachel?"

Quinn blinked at him. He was the most sensitive and watchful child she'd ever met. Except for Santana. He seemed to almost smell other people's emotions. She never bullshitted her second boy.

"I _am_ mad at her, L. But that's not your fault. I promise you everything will be fine. I'll talk to her and everything will be okay. I love her and I love you so no worries, okay? I promise. I won't be mean or yell. We'll talk."

He looked at the ground. "She has boundary issues."

Quinn's eyes widened, "Who told you that?"

"She did."

Brittany saw Quinn's expression and quickly said, "LQ—let's go have a snack. Where are Noah and Berry?"

"In the rec room."

"Go run and tell them we're about to have a snack attack. I'll be there in a minute. Vanilla frozen yogurt with walnuts and raspberries!"

He ran to alert his siblings. Brittany knew Quinn was furious.

"I know why you're mad, I think, but Rach doesn't understand stuff like we do, Q. Don't be mean. She doesn't know she doesn't have to do this. Her daddy and dad didn't have anyone but each other and mad-prepped her to get ready for people who might hurt her. And we did hurt her, didn't we?"

Quinn took a deep breath. "What she's saying is inappropriate for a five year old, Brittany."

"I know that, Quinn. But it's been twenty-five something years since her fathers tried to put armor on her and it was probably way too soon to think about even when they did it. But a lot of stuff has changed since then. She's just scared, Q. I'll talk to her. I think I could be little cooler about it than you can. Not cooler as in cool—just like not hot-headed."

Quinn looked into Brittany's lovely eyes. "I'd appreciate that. I don't want to hurt her feelings and I think I might in the mood I'm in."

Brittany shrugged. "I understand. You're her wife but I'm her sub captain, Q. She's my XO. She'll listen to me because she sorta has to. Chain of command. But you know all about that. San's still your lieutenant, right?"

Brittany kissed Quinn on the cheek and ran out of the room screaming "SNAAAAAAAAAAAACCKKK!"

Quinn smiled as she heard the kids scream back, "ATTAAAAAACCKKKKKKKKK!"

Quinn ran her hands through her hair. They almost never talked about it anymore but they were 31 years old and that damned sub had remained a part of them. Quietly and mysteriously working under the radar of their lives just like she supposed a real submarine happened to operate.

* * *

The parents gave each child a special night by themselves every other week to give each a chance to have total attention. It was sometimes exciting. Sometimes it was just something like having dinner and watching television together.

Five year old Little Noah sat between Puck and girl Sam watching extreme skateboarding with them. It was cool. It was oh my God, cool, gnarly, gnarly, _cool _but then they watched a guy trying to ride down a stair rail and face-planting into the ground.

Little Noah said, "Oh, ffffuck."

Puck sprayed a mouthful of beer.

Sam stifled her laughter and said, "Okay, Noah? Dude? Just no. You learned that word from your dad but you can't talk like that. Especially with your moms. But I'm totally onboard just so ya know. That shiz sucked _massively _for that dumbass—and you can't say that last word either."

Little Noah smiled with complete joy because he didn't care. His favorite dude after his dad—girl Sam—had said it. He was officially a dude.

One day he knew he'd be badass. He could hardly wait.

* * *

**A/N **

**I'd like to thank you folks yet again for reading. As of this posting, I have 1,245,051 hits on this story. I remember when I was getting close to a million and thinking no way. But way. I very truly appreciate it. **


	83. Chapter 83

**A/N: Disclaimers from Chapter One apply. This is completely AU, folks. As you all know at this point. **

**They are aged 25 in this chapter.**

**This is a micro-report from the field of the Internet. Think of all the tumblrs for Faberry and Achele today. Hmmm. I wondered if these girls would have some in this alt-universe? **

**This is REALLY a throwaway but it made me smile to write it.**

* * *

**tumblr. site: \\Fab4-Forever\\ Blog Post**

**BEST DAY EVER!**

Janie here with the longest post ever but you guys! OMG. Remember I told you me and Laurie were taking that trip to NYC for a four-day weekend to visit my grandmother with my parents? Just got back! Sorry for the tumblr silence but we were soooo busy. Thanks you followers for those recs for cool places to go where we probably wouldn't get killed or that our parents wouldn't kill us for going to. LOL!

We planned it all out. Me and Laurie actually called all the places we wanted to go to, talked to the people about the neighborhoods and if they were safe enough for teen girls to walk around in, wrote down what they said and wrote down their names, made maps from gran's house to the places and how we planned to get there and how much it would cost and gave all that to my parents plus screen shots of the buildings and the RP contact info.

We wanted to seem like Super!Responsible!13 year olds so we could daytrip at least a little by ourselves in NYC. It worked! Laurie says to say it probably works better if you're not a teen thug. Just sayin cause I don't want to get your hopes up with your rents. :D

We went to some of the restaurants you guys told us about too with my mom and dad and gran. We had such a blast when we got on the plane to come home, I didn't think the trip could get any better. Saw my gran, had fun with my rents but got to run loose for hours and hours in the Big Apple with my bestie!

On the way back, we had to land at Hartsfield airport in the A.T.L for a connecting flight. There was some plane delay thing so the two hour layover was a heinous four hour layover. But guess what?! I'm so glad that plane got delayed because we saw them! The Fab 4! Me and Laurie got to talk to all of them! Understand, okay? I'm writing but Laurie wants to say what she saw, too, and as you know she sees mostly clothes, so here goes.

Here's what happened. Me and Laurie were bored waiting so we ditched my parents and were just walking around in the airport and there they were! I had to look three times and blink to believe it! It was them! All of them! I know they're on that Two Women, One Man press thing but they were just sitting there like they were anybody else waiting for a flight. Brittany was sleeping with her head on Quinn's shoulder and I don't know why but I don't think Quinn was sleeping but her eyes were closed.

S had one arm over Rachel's shoulder and watching Rachel doing something on an iPad and talking and laughing. S looked up and saw me taking pictures. She had a denim shirt on over a t-shirt, took it off and covered Brittany and Quinn's heads with it.

She walked over to me and asked if I needed something. You guys who follow us know what huge fans, almost stans, of all of them we are but even after looking at tons of pix of her and watching her videos and stuff on TV, we couldn't believe how tiny she is in RL. Not short—tiny. Fashion grrl Laurie says she had True Religion jeans on and her army boots were Tory Burch Tobys. Santana's hair was in a pony and if you didn't know her like we know her, you might not even notice it was her because she's so tiny. But like you'd think from how she talks, she's a little scary anyway. TBH we sort of felt bad because she said it was really rude to take pictures of people sleeping and to stop it. Actually she said to knock it off.

She said if we wanted autographs or pictures when Brittany and Quinn weren't resting, we should be polite and ask. I said we were sorry but we were massive fans and that me and Laurie had this tumblr for all of them and she sort of looked at us for a really long time and then asked how old we were. We said 13 and she said that was sweet and thanked us for supporting them. Then she took pictures with me and Laurie and signed stuff we asked for. Our old boarding passes and shirts!

She waved Rachel over and she introduced herself (!As if everyone doesn't know who she is!). She was wearing black jeans (also True Religion Laurie says) and black D&G combat boots (Laurie says) and a huge (for her) blue sweatshirt with that Superman emblem thing that's just a big S on a shield. It was so big you could see she had a pastel blue tank on under it. S even pointed it out to us and said Rachel wears that sweatshirt because she's her biggest, shortest fan and Rachel made a snarky face at her. ROFL!

Rachel had a black baseball cap on pulled down sort of low (that was embroidered with Frodo in blue letters!). She didn't act how she does on TV. She was looking around and talking really, really quietly and we thought that must be cause she didn't want people to notice her. She asked our names and shook our hands like regular people do and said Hello, Janie. Hello, Laurie. I'm Rachel Berry. I'm so pleased to make your acquaintance. I remember that last stuff because I didn't know people still talked like that! Then she took off her hat and ruffled her hair and took pictures with us and signed the same stuff for us. BTW? Rachel is even shorter in RL than us or on TV! LOL.

I didn't know what to say so I asked what they were doing on their iPad and they said they were iPad bowling. S said she and Rachel had gotten a really big bowling trophy made and they had a bowl-off every month and either she or Rachel got to put it in their trophy case for next month. S said Rachel liked having the bowling trophy better than her Tony. S said she liked it better than any Grammy! Rachel said it was true and then S told Rachel we were 13 and about our tumblr and SHE thanked us!

Then S asked us if we had a plane to catch and we told them about our layover and she said let's sit down and they sat down with us! We didn't even get to ask anything because they asked us all sorts of questions about where we were from, about if we were excited about going to high school next year and what sorts of things we did beside tumblr and stuff like that! For like maybe fifteen minutes. It was like they were really interested in us and the whole time, I was trying not to cry or die and Laurie was red as a tomato! They were SO nice we couldn't believe it.

Quinn and Brittany woke up and saw us and they came over and introduced themselves (why!?) and took pictures with us and signed stuff. Brittany was wearing black jeans (Levis, Laurie says) and a grey sweatshirt that said You Can Dance if You To on it. Laurie says her black shoes with neon lime green skeletons on them were actually real bowling shoes. Brittany has the sweetest smile in RL and her eyes are really pretty but they're almost weird because they're so calm that you feel sort of calm just looking at her. It sounds crazy but if any of you guys ever meet her, you'll see.

They signed for us too and Brittany hugged us as Rachel took pix. Laurie says Quinn was wearing a pink skirt that was not designer but she was wearing a white, oversized Michael Kors fisherman's sweater over a pink tank and her shoes were Stella McCartney pastel brocade ballet flats (?!—I don't understand either).

We got a guy to take some pix of all of us together and then Rachel took pix of us with Quinn, who put her arms around us and was nice but she's really quiet like she's really shy. But for these pix and when she smiled, guys? I swear. She is 1000 times prettier in RL than in pix or in the movies. I didn't think that was possible.

What happened was that us taking pix with Quinn made people notice her—and then all of them. A lot of people. So many me and Laurie had to get out of the way. These four big guys sort of showed up next to them and kept all the people from getting too close and we guessed it must be airport security or something.

We watched and it was weird. They were just talking with us then it was people everywhere all around and they had to sign, sign, sign, picture, picture, picture. Tons of people. I'm not kidding. They were being nice but we felt really bad for them.

It kept going until they were about to get on their plane. S looked around and actually sort of busted through the crowd, ran back to us and whispered they were all happy to meet us and sorry we couldn't talk more. People were sort of coming after her and she looked behind her and waved her hand. I don't know how her face looked but they stopped like she had waved a gun with her face!

She said something like you can't take pictures of Quinn in public or that's what happens. Then she asked for the address for this tumblr! She put it in her phone and said she trolls tumblr and collects gifs of Rachel and shows them to Q and B. She said watching Rachel do anything in a two second clip looped a thousand times was better than most TV shows or movies. ROFL! She said to follow her on Twitter and told us something to write so she'd know it was us (can't tell), kissed us both on the cheek and said bye and ran to get on the plane.

OMG!

We're only posting the pictures they took with me and Laurie, not the ones I shouldn't have taken. Hope you like them. What a great trip, so thank all you guys and what a great day and thanks to the Fab-4 for being so cool and nice. Thanks specially to S. We tweeted her before their plane took off and she tweeted right back! We squeed and pinched ourselves all the way home.

So that's the meeting report and the fash report from Laurie. If we ever meet Chocolate Milk, I'll have to take Laurie to the hospital! I was so excited, Laurie asked the airplane person if she could get that little oxygen thing down from above the airplane seat just for me. If you're wondering, the answer's no. But she was a nice lady and got me a barf bag and I breathed in that for a while and I was fine!

Best day ever!

* * *

Santana was happy enough meeting these two young, starstruck fans. But what Santana saw, just approaching them and their not-yet-developed bodies and not quite good enough or cool enough clothes and hopeful faces, were young teen girls she and Quinn would have tortured in high school. When they told her how old they were, she didn't know how to feel about the fact these two little girls couldn't know what they'd walk into in their freshman year.

When Rachel joined them, she saw it instantly. And looked from them to Santana and smiled a sort of sad and sickly smile that made Santana's gorge rise and made her face flush with shame. Santana sat down with them and with Rachel and talked. Janie and Laurie were so sweet and new and happy and shy. But they were still so confident because, evidently and luckily enough, they hadn't yet been hurt by people like her and Quinn who'd introduce misery and insecurity into their feelings about themselves.

Brittany was sweet with them and easily. However, Brittany, Santana and Rachel could all see Quinn was writhing under their innocent, sweet, nerdy and loving attention because they all knew she felt she didn't deserve it. Quinn smiled and was sweet and nice but could barely speak. When the waves of people hit them, Santana watched Quinn fake it immediately, not happy so much but so much happier being fake than facing two little girls who were very real and and she felt should not look up to her. Santana saw it was probably the most painful and raw fan interaction Quinn had ever had.

Brittany knew it, too, and was miserable watching Quinn smiling and watching Rachel miserable for Quinn and smiling.

Santana wanted to die seeing it happen in front of her, around her, so she ran back for her family and especially for Laurie and Janie to make them cool.

* * *

**Two Days Later Fab4-Forever screenshot:**

**Twitter**

**SLeftyLopez: Damn, peeps. We met the coolest effin' kids in the ATL airport! Sorry for the end of it with the overwhelm, Laurie and Janie. It happens.#fab4-forever**

******SLeftyLopez: Here's a few instagram pics for the proof. (url) #fab4-forever**

**RachelBarbraBerry: Fab4-Forever: So fun to meet you. Q and B say hi, too. When in NYC again, DM us so we can meet and take you and your parents to lunch. We'll show you San's studio! (url to more pictures) #fab4-forever  
**

**RachelBarbraBerry: fab4-forever: And if it gives you street cred to publish this on tumblr, do it #fab4-forever**

**SLeftyLopez: RachelBarbraBerry: You're SO cool, Rach. Street cred? #fab4-forever**

**RachelBarbraBerry: SLeftyLopez: I have a degree of cool. Remember Naughty By Nature and OPP? Damn skippy I'm with it, tyvm #ese  
**

**SLeftyLopez: RachelBarbraBerry: ROTFLMAO. Damn skippy? IDEK what to say but go girl! Exactly this is why I gots me some mad- #hobbitlove **

**RachelBarbraBerry: SLeftyLopez: Remind me why I'm not poisoning your food tonight, Santana, before Quinn does #ese**

Santana and Rachel were seated right next to each other, as they so often were when sending fierce tweets to each other.

And they laughed as they read them.

* * *

Days later, Zac Sargent followed Fab4-Forever and tweeted them and sent them pictures. Janie and Laurie's tumblr and Twitter exploded with followers. Their freshman year happened to work out just fine.

* * *

**Yes, I wrote these kids as younger teens, emotionally and in expression. They're out there. I love reading their enthusiasm on tumblr. Some kids, when they're 13, seem like they're 30 on tumblr. But some kids are just kids. I wish it were true of most. To be honest, the foursome in this story would probably have less tumblrs devoted to them. An acknowledged relationship is so much less interesting than speculation on tumblr. Oh well. **

**Anyway, like I said, a throwaway if ever there were one. Actually, dear readers (or people who hate me) sometimes some things just occur to me and if I can't write what I feel like writing, why write? I'm so sure I'll get a few trolls for saying that. (Seriously—and laughing) This is fanfiction, not Tolstoy. I'll wrap it up soon enough.**

**Next time? Red meat! Or seitan for you vegetarian/vegans out there. Substantive nutrition to take this story quickly to bed.**


	84. Chapter 84

**A/N: Disclaimers from Chapter One apply. This is completely AU, folks. As all of you know at this point. **

**This is a MICRO-chapter which would have been five times longer except for an out-of-the-blue corruption in my Word file. I auto-save every three minutes. I've banged my head trying to fix this for three days but it won't be fixed (and I used to do computer support for a living) so I'll just have to write it over. I had the beginning of this chapter in a diff file so here it is and it will seem random and like a blast from the past but it really has something to do with Quinn's future I could SHOW YOU if my Word wasn't acting like…grrrrr.**

**I'm only putting this out to explain I'm continuing. No need to read or review. **

**If you do read it, it might help to listen to the song—even tho' you know it. How she sings it's very different and means something.**

******Quinn changes the lyrics to Radiohead's Creep.**

**Youtube? /watch?v=rqx93GroAi0**

**Age 28**

* * *

During their high school reunion, Quinn had asked a favor of three former classmates to play in a video she was directing that might take half a day. Once she explained the point of it, they'd jumped at the chance.

**youtube video.**

* * *

Puck and Sam playing guitar. Ryk playing bass with Finn on drums. All wearing jeans and white t-shirts. Quinn singing in jeans and a white t-shirt emblazoned with BULLY. The camera moved in slowly showing they were in a warehouse on and in front of a simple pale green paper backdrop. It stopped at a medium frame of all of them.

**_When you were here before_**

**_Couldn't look me in the eye_**

**_I'm just like an angel_**

**_My skin makes you cry_**

Quinn looked into the camera with complete disdain as she sang and she knew she didn't need a close-up. No one ever got a close-up of her:

**_I float like a feather_**

**_In my beautiful world_**

**_You wish you were special _**

**_I'm so very special_**

Puck and Sam slammed their guitars hard as Quinn nearly spat and her eyes were laughing and venomous:

**_But you're a _creep**

**_You're a _weirdo**

**_What the hell are you doing here?_**

**You _don't belong here_**

Quinn looked into the camera, her voice completely dead, smiling with utter contempt.

**_I don't care if you hurt_**

**_I want to have control_**

**_I want a perfect body_**

**_I want a perfect soul_**

**_I want you to notice when I'm not around_**

**_I'm so very special_**

**_You think I'm so special_**

Later, when the guys saw the playback of it and saw her face, they all forced themselves not to cry because Quinn would have hated them for it.

They knew that HBIC face. Knowing her now, all they saw in that face was a girl they hadn't truly known had been cornered in a dark alley way back when and who'd had nowhere to go. Fighting as dirty as she'd known how. She was a great actor but they knew it wasn't an act. It was her. But…when playing the song, they'd just felt something sad and hard in her voice, shook their heads, jumped and pounded their guitars and drums.

Quinn's voice and face held cold contemptuous anger.

**_But _you're_ a creep_**

**You're _a weirdo_**

**_What the hell are you doing here?_**

**_You don't belong here_**

They hadn't known she could sing—almost scream—like this.

**_Oh, oh_**

**_she's running out the door_**

**_She's running out_**

**_She runs runs…runs_**

**_Runs_**

Then everything was suddenly calm. Quinn sounded empty. A vacuum. Looked into the camera like she wanted to die.

**_Whatever makes me happy_**

**_Whatever I want_**

**_I'm so very special_**

She sounded so tired as she addressed the camera.

**_I wish I was special_**

**_But I'm a creep_**

**_I'm a weirdo_**

**_What the hell am I doing here?_**

**_I don't belong here_**

_**I don't belong here** _

She looked down as the guys put down their instruments and joined her. She looked up and sighed at the camera and half-smiled.

Her voice was quiet. "This is the fifth anniversary of my It Gets Better joint. I was a bully. I was a creep. I didn't belong anywhere. Every person you bully is just as special as you are and you know it. That's my message. You're hurting people and making them want to hurt themselves to get away from you. You want to hurt yourself because you do it. I've been there. It's unacceptable."

She waved her hands at her band as they surrounded her.

"The reason I have these beautiful, talented men with me is because it's our 10th year high school reunion. They agreed to play with me to show you something. When I was in school with them, I hurt all of them very badly. But look. They're here with me because of the grace they've extended to accept my changing and my apologies. They're my friends now."

Puck spoke, "If you have any questions about your sexuality or are being bullied because of it or considering harming yourself, don't. Do not. Please. We promise The Trevor Project Hotline has resources to assist you."

Sam added, "And please keep watching It Gets Better videos because they provide an amazing outreach for all of you LGBT or questioning kids out there."

Quinn followed, "This video is simply a way of announcing a new 24-hour hotline for bullies I've been working on for a few years. It's totally free and every volunteer you talk to will have gone through training by psychologists and social workers and we have developed a fantastic network of resources. You can be straight, gay, bi, transgendered—whatever color of the rainbow you are. You deserve better than to be a bully. Look right below this video and click for our website and phone number and for the links to the other places we've mentioned."

She took a deep breath. "It's not Project Runway, people—I'd need Chocolate Milk for that. It's called Project Hallway because bullies make life hell for kids every time they walk to class. I did it full stop for ten years. Click on the link and you can get numbers and links to all sorts of resources."

Puck tossed an easy arm around her and kissed her right temple, Sam wrapped an arm around her and kissed her left temple. Finn wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on the top of her head.

She laughed at Ryk, "Bring it in, Ryk."

She was smothered with guys but pulled Ryk in front of her mostly to shield her from the camera and reached around to kiss his cheek, which made him blush violently.

She looked into the camera and said, "I'm so gay and it's still all Boyz II Men with me."

Sam smacked his forehead and said, "Aw man! Where's Artie when we need him? We could breakdown some Motownphilly!"

Quinn said, "And on that note, see why I bullied these guys back in the day?"

Sam countered, "You can NOT say you don't like that song, Quinn. We sang it on the way to Breadstix one time."

Finn said, "She sang that Pina Colada song with me once in my car."

"Oh. My. God. Finn! That was an aberration on my part. I was trying to be nice because it was on your playlist."

He hugged her tighter. "No way—you totally were into it. I could tell."

Puck offered, "I can beatcha boys. She can sing all the words to Can I Get A."

Ryk's eyes popped, "Jay-Z? That's sorta hot."

Quinn, paused, stared into the camera and burst into laughter.

Not one of these friends had ever really gotten over the surprise of hearing her laughing genuinely and Sam smiled as he said into the camera. "Sorry people—we're getting away from the point. Click on that link for a website for resources and information. We're so proud of Quinn for launching this project and for asking us to be a little part of it."

Puck said into the camera as he pulled Quinn tighter, "I wasn't the best guy in high school and you might be a bully now but you deserve to get better and be like this one. Surrounded by love you deserve."

Finn smiled into the camera, "You don't know what we went through together but I can tell you I wasn't the best guy in high school either but here we all are. Better and knowing you can get better too."

Ryk said, "Hell, I've been scared of her forever and I still am but look at me. Quinn Fabray's hugging me."

"It's a PR stunt, Ryk."

Ryk laughed and then his face changed as he focused his almost scarily ice blue eyes at the camera. "It's not. It's a beautiful and continuing act of contrition on Quinn's part I'm honored to be part of."

Ryk was as Catholic as Santana and Quinn was actually touched by this but frowned, keeping her arms around him. "Now you're making me seem cuddly, Ryk"

Ryk stared into the camera, "Do NOT make that mistake and try to cuddle this person even with words. We know her. It's like—what's the most poisonous snake, guys?"

Sam said, "On Earth or like on SyFy AUs?"

Puck rolled his eyes and Finn said, wide-eyed and nodding on top of her head, "Don't try to cuddle her unless you know her or you'll lose something you want. Like…seriously. From your body in a personal area, if you understand what I'm saying."

Quinn looked authentically happy enveloped with people she trusted and loved as she smiled into the camera. "See? I still got game. You know the gig by now—hit that website and hit the phones. Get better. We want to help."

Puck said, "We do but in the meantime we get to hug Quinn cause we're on camera."

"Pig."

He smiled into the camera.

Sam, Finn and Ryk smiled.

She relaxed into the many arms around her, kissed two fingers, made a peace sign and smiled a true and vibrant smile.

The phone and web response were amazing.

* * *

**Back to the drawing board for the rest of what I wanted to say. Again. This is bookmark. So who cares.**


	85. Chapter 85

**A/N: Disclaimers from Chapter One apply. This is completely AU, folks. As you all know at this point. **

**I suppose it should have occurred to me that this story's already over. The time jump was the end of the story. So that was Chapter 61. Look at what we have now. I'm only writing it because it's fun and a few of you like it. **

**I truly appreciate all of your interest, reviews and thoughts. The story could go on forever but it can't. I don't know how many chapters will seem enough to me anymore. To the degree I've created versions of characters readers think of as real through this story, I have achieved whatever mission I began with. **

**Thank all of you. So many actually it's hard to say. I must thank the amazing soulsworker, my bro ScorpioP and the magnificent Brabkeb for their grace and kindness. **

**That said, I hope all of you have a wonderful and safe holiday season. **

**We are going back and a bit more forward in time again. Look at time stamps. And what isn't clear, I'll write another chapter to clear it up. Oh—and it's kid stuff. Sorry!**

**It's, nevertheless, a Rachel-centric chapter in its way.**

* * *

**Age 31**

It was very early and a big morning—kids back to school. It was, for the kids, big kid-school. They were five years old—not three or four. They didn't understand it was really still pre-school.

All of their parents had had brutal work days the day before. But they were all up and chipping in.

Rachel and Santana were chopping carrots and celery sticks for the kids. Quinn was putting almond milk in thermoses and Brittany was putting warm tofu-roni in containers to put in their lunch boxes.

Rachel called out, "Let's go guys!"

The kids scrambled down and Little Noah said, "For God's sake, you don't have to be so loud. We could hear you on Mars."

That was something he'd heard his _mami _say to Mommy Rachel but when he said it everything stopped. Literally. His mommy, _mami_ and MQ turned around to him and he knew instantly, and his siblings knew, he'd messed up.

His mommy Rachel just nodded at him and left the room, which made him know he was in the worst trouble, maybe, of his life.

Brittany waved her hands at_ mami_ and MQ, which made him know it even more. They were so mad she had to help. "Okay! All of you, little troopers, in the rec room. Now."

This was a default in their parental program. Brittany always stepped in to discipline the children if things were bad, which didn't make Noah feel good.

* * *

They went to the rec room and Brittany said, "Sit."

They dutifully sat.

She stood before them. "You're all learning how to be good people in your synagogue and church classes, aren't you?"

They nodded.

Little Noah had decided because his dad and his Jew Berry was Jewish that he was, too. Little Quinn was Episcopalian, as he'd fought for from the beginning of knowing he had a choice. Little Quinn.

Girl Sam had converted to Judaism for Puck and, if they could, they all joined to observe Shabbat every week with their two Jewish children, or when Beth was in town, their three. Just as all of them went with Quinn, LQ and Santana to an Episcopalian church for themselves and their Christian child every Sunday.

Quinn and Santana had been adamant about giving the children a faith tradition and had found an amazing synagogue and Episcopalian church that accepted all of them. It was one out of four and Catholic Light for Santana but she didn't mind it as long as her children had a faith that respected who they were.

Whenever it was possible, the children's Friday nights, Saturdays and Sundays were bound in ritual which all of them observed and had learned to love.

So, Jewish or Christian, they all knew the 10 Commandments.

"What's the 11th Commandment?"

The children murmured, "Nobody hurts Brittany."

"Right and one day you'll learn why. Noah, you weren't thinking anything bad and were sort of playing when you said that thing to Rachel and I'll say it with their real names—not their mommy names, okay? I know that it's like stuff you've heard San say to Rach tons of times, right?

"Yeah."

"The word is yes to adults and I am one, little guy."

He lowered his eyes. "Yes."

"Okay. You guys remember when we went to that fun petting zoo three weeks ago?"

They all smiled and nodded.

"And that nice man Mr. Johnson showed us his new puppies?"

They nodded.

"Remember how some of the little puppies were sleeping on each other and some were play-biting and fighting each other but it didn't hurt them and it was super fun to watch?"

They nodded again with smiles.

"It's like this, guys. All the time, Rach and San still bite each other with fun puppy biting because they knew each other when_ they _were puppies almost exactly your age. San and Quinn still bite each other like puppies and even Quinn and Rach sometimes. They don't hurt each other because they still remember the puppies they used to be. But now you guys are the puppies and they're big dogs. You don't get to bite them like that. In real life with real dogs? If a puppy play bit a big dog, the dog would treat the puppy this way and don't be scared because LQ is used to dancing and moving with me and knows I won't hurt my baby bear."

She grabbed LQ by his shirt and trousers, picked him up bodily and gently placed him on his back on the ground, pointed an index finger in his face and growled out fiercely, "NO!"

As LQ scrambled up, completely unfrightened and none the worse for wear, Brittany looked at little Noah and said, "Quinn and San were about to do that to you, Noah Pierce. In a really not nice way. You don't get to show disrespect to Rachel. Never, ever, ever think you can talk to her the way San or Quinn talk to her. You don't have the right because you weren't puppies with her. We'll explain more about why they're like that when you're big kids."

She knelt down to look in his face, "The main point to remember? If anyone's mean to Rachel, they're mean to me, Noah. We all know how being mean to me will go in this family, don't we?"

Noah did. The other children did. They knew Brittany was the sweetest person taking care of them. But when _she_ was scary, things were really scary.

Brittany waved a finger at them. "This is the biggest secret I will ever tell you and I've never told anyone and you can't tell I told you, okay?"

They nodded like bobble-head dolls.

"There's a 12th Commandment and it's 'Nobody hurts Rachel.' And what's weird about that is that the 11th Commandment's _about _me but the 12th _adds_ me. You have no idea how angry I can get if someone hurts Rachel. San and Quinn go _loco_ if someone even seems to want to hurt her, even with words. I'm ten billion times worse than them. One day we'll tell you why she's the most special person in this house. The only thing I'll say right now when you're still kids is that for ten years and that's twice as old as you guys are—so think about how long that is, okay?"

She shook her head and the kids watched tears form in her eyes. It destroyed them if she cried because she almost never did. She wiped them away and said, "Twice as long as all of you have even been alive, every single person at school hurt her. They hurt her feelings way, way more even than they ever hurt Berry's. Think about how you felt, Berry, or you guys, about Berry having her feelings hurt for maybe a few months. I'm serious, guys. It was ten years and super worse than Berry. People were so mean to Rachel you couldn't believe it. But one time and this is the really secret part? It wasn't in school and a person hurt her so super bad she was in the hospital for real and it was the scariest thing that happened to all of us ever."

The children's eyes widened in shock.

"That's why none of us grown-ups can stand to have anyone hurt her ever again. That doesn't mean you don't get to have feelings about your mommy Rachel that aren't nice. We all have feelings that aren't nice about each other sometimes and that's fair, okay? Like sometimes maybe you, LQ, might feel like smacking Noah about a game or you, Berry, might want to yell at LQ about some musical thing. Or maybe feel like smacking or yelling at any of your parents."

She smiled at them. "You can feel that way but you don't do that stuff because you know it's wrong. That's normal, guys. But, in this house, the most important thing you have to know is you can't hurt Rachel on purpose. Rachel, I promise, is never mean to anybody ever, ever on purpose but sometimes she doesn't understand when she says stuff that feels mean to you. If she hurts your feelings, tell her she did. Please tell her. I promise she'll tell us and we'll help her and she'll understand and apologize, okay?"

They nodded.

"Noah, go apologize to Rachel and hug her. I promise you she'll just hug you back and everything will be okay right away. She's the nicest person ever. But super quick—it's school time guys!"

In five minutes Rachel came back with a beaming Noah and order was restored.

Santana hugged Rachel and said, "Aw, estrellita, I know it hurt your feelings about your vocal projection. Little Noah said Mars? I could hear you on Jupiter. Promise."

"I resent that!" Rachel stamped her foot in faux-anger and hugged Santana tighter. Noah saw instantly it really was like Mommy said. Puppies play fighting.

Quinn looked at Noah and nodded. In not a very nice way. He crossed the room, hugged her and whispered, "I'm sorry."

She knelt down and whispered, "I know you didn't mean to be mean, sweetheart, but it hurt Rachel's feelings. If you ever need to hurt someone's feelings, please angel boy, always hurt mine. Never hers. Never, ever hers."

As she pulled away from him, something in her eyes made him feel, and he didn't know why, crushed with sadness. He loved her so much and hugged her ferociously tightly as she kissed him on his cheek and then smiled at him. A really real smile. He beamed up at her as she stood.

His _mami_, however, pulled him aside as they walked to wait for the driver and whispered, "I know you're feeling all buck repeating the shit I say to my hobbit but do it again. Hurt her feelings again? I'll rain fire down on you, boy. Nobody hurts Brittany. But you hurt Rachel and all bets are off. Understood?"

He nodded dutifully and she ruffled his hair and kissed him on his cheek. "I love you more than I can put words around, little man. Sucks to get in trouble first thing in the morning but I've been there too many times to count. Ask my _papi._ But you're my kinda guy. Look at it this way—if it sucks so hard in the morning, the day can only get better." She winked at him and he smiled up happily at her. They understood each other.

As they waited for their driver, Noah felt desperately sad as he thought about Daddy's Jew, little Rachel, being hurt because it was so easy to envision. He had his own Jew, little Berry. He felt a random desire to beat down any and every one who'd ever hurt his mommy Rachel and couldn't know he was living with the very worst of them.

He wanted to but, like mommy said, he couldn't. He scratched his head and thought about the complete suck-a-tude of that.

The other two children let their brother absorb his punishment for about a minute and then LQ shoulder bumped him and smiled. Berry put her head on his shoulder. She was still so much smaller than they were. Noah wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she smiled at the door.

He smiled back—not at his brother or sister but at the door. He was happy for sibling support but sighed thinking, Little Noah that he was, having four moms was tough as fuck.

* * *

**Age 36**

**Table Interview after AFI Screening of Tommy, Age Ten**

"Okay, Adam Anders here—and it feels like just yesterday with Quinn every time I see her. We have director Quinn Fabray, her son Quinn Pierce-Lopez, Santana Lopez, Valerie Constanza and the screenwriter Kurt Hummel. What a fantastic film—thanks for joining us!"

They all nodded as the audience applauded.

"Okay, two Quinns. How should we address you?"

Little Quinn was wearing a long-sleeved shirt that had Chocolate Milk emblazoned on it, jeans and boots. He was a lean, muscular little boy with the skin of his biological parents but blond hair past his chin. He answered, "What they call me at home. Either LQ or L—the initial L. They call me both all the time. My mother Quinn is Quinn. I'm Little Quinn. For these questions I'll call all my parents by just their names or it'll be hard for you to know who I'm talking about, okay?"

Adam was a little taken aback that the little boy didn't seem nervous at all. "Okay. First question for you, Quinn. You've directed many music videos. What got you out of cinematic retirement for your first feature?"

Quinn smiled at him. She sort of hated him which made her smile more widely. "I only retired from acting, Adam, not necessarily from film. Kurt wrote a screenplay about two years ago and brought it to me to read. I thought it was fabulous as long as he didn't think I'd have anything to do with it."

Kurt said, "Her exact words were too profane for this gathering."

The audience laughed.

"I did love it but I told him if he thought I would act in it he was insane."

Kurt smiled at her, "Somewhat more profanely."

"Yes, and zip it Kurt. I'm the director."

Santana snorted. "Let me help you with her, Adam. Cap? Cut to the chase. Why'd you do this shiz?"

Quinn's lips twitched because she liked her Lefty immediately pushing Adam around.

She answered, "I was really stunned by the beauty of the story. If you don't know Kurt, you've probably seen him and no one on Earth could be more supportive of that man than his father, Burt Hummel. Tell the story, Kurt."

Kurt smiled at her, "Quinn's right. I was a very, very obviously gay child from the moment I was born. My mother died when I was very young. If I hadn't been given…well graced actually…by my wonderful father, my life as a child, beginning to understand myself as a gay person, would have been so much more difficult and painful than it was. Please know I tried to keep it from him. I tried everything—even an abortive attempt at playing football."

The audience laughed.

"See? You just pair football with me and that's exactly how ludicrous that was. I tried everything to be what I imagined my father would want from a son. He's a mechanic and about the straightest guy you've ever seen. But when I finally told him, he wasn't angry. He wasn't mean—he was completely supportive and very, very protective of me. I was so lucky."

"In school? I lived with lots of bullying and name-calling and violence. But I never knew coming home to a parent who hated who I was as a person. My partner David did. Does. So I wrote a story about a little boy who was like me except with an unsupportive single parent. I wanted to tell a story about a child who hadn't reached puberty yet, which is when a lot of kids start questioning. A kid who was obviously gay from the day he or she was born. So I passed it along to Quinn to see what she'd think."

Quinn shrugged, "I read it and thought it was…well. It was something that, and I'm about to be gay about this, Kurt."

Kurt cut his eyes to her and then back out to the audience. "Okay people? We can say gay like 'that's so gay' because some things really ARE so gay. I say this being a proud owner of a Barbra Streisand Barbie."

The audience laughed.

Kurt continued, "I promise Quinn and I are Cap-G gays. So put your freak flag up, girl."

Santana cackled, but reached around her son, and smacked Kurt lightly on the head before Quinn said, "Simmer down, Hummel. Remember who I am?"

He knew she was only half kidding and nodded respectfully. "Completely."

Santana smirked, "Audience, you have to understand we've had a stupid hierarchy since we were six years old. It's still there. We all love each other but you'll never understand us. We all get us, perfectly. Right, Kurt?"

He heard the tiny threat he knew he didn't actually have to worry about and answered, "Absolutely."

Quinn said, "To continue, I thought it was a heartbreaking and beautiful story that needed to be told—and that Kurt had written it incredibly well. It needed to be told to people experiencing it from his vantage point, but to be honest, it was something I also thought bullies needed to see as well. If we could get it done."

"That wasn't gay, Quinn. That was just sincere and heartfelt."

"Thank you, Kurt, for that memo. And…oh…really? Person who's known me thirty years, what does my being sincere and heartfelt add up to for me?"

"Oh wow. Right. Got it. That was_ so _gay."

Quinn nodded and said, "Damn straight, so to speak."

Kurt, L and Valerie laughed as Santana buried her face in her palm.

The audience didn't know how to react. Evidently Santana was right. How did you understand them?

With the silence in the room, Quinn immediately said, "I know we'll get a lot of flack for this but don't tell two people who are gay how to use the word gay when we're clearly joking. We're gay. Most of you are not, statistically, and—I"

Kurt jumped in and cut her off, speaking to the audience. "If you're not gay you only sort of know the word gay means a lot of different things and gay people often don't even know what the word means to other gay people. I know _exactly_ what Quinn's expressing to me. I am probably the gayest person in this room and I understand her and she's making a private reference to our mutual past so don't even start with her."

The room was silent for a few moments before Valerie spoke up, "O_-kay_! So? Big sis Quinn popped the script out to me, I read it and said I'm on board if you direct."

Quinn glared at her, "Which was a bitchy thing for you to do to me."

Valerie snickered even as Santana put a hand up.

"So two-Time Oscar Q got Ms. Star Constanza in the loop and Quinn was directing so it immediately got a little hot in the H-wood production frying pan. Go."

Adam Anders was irritated because Quinn Fabray was bad enough but he was beginning to feel Santana would be controlling the interview if he didn't stop her and he wasn't sure he could.

Quinn shrugged, "As San said, I threw it out to my agent and naturally she was thrilled because of that 10% she'd get and right away we picked up interest from a number of production companies, including the one we eventually used."

Adam spoke before Santana. "How did you happen to cast your son?"

Little Quinn answered. "It was me, Mr. Anders. They were having trouble casting a little boy for the part and I heard them talking about it."

Adam nodded, "And?"

L shrugged. "I asked what they were talking about and they told me it was a story about a little boy like _Tio _Kurt. He's my godfather, if some of you don't know. So I said I could try and I read the pieces of the script they gave me and I got the part."

The audience laughed.

L smiled but said with less humor, "I know you think it's funny because my mother directed it but she didn't cast me because I'm her little boy. I'm not an actor. I'm only a dancer. I don't like acting all that much and don't think I ever will act again but I wanted to do this for Quinn and for _Tio_ Kurt."

Santana reached out to rub his head, "Explain it, son. Take your time."

He smiled at her and then at the audience. "I've known my_ Tio_ Kurt all my life. Like I said, I'm a dancer. I can talk like him because my voice hasn't changed yet and his voice is a big part of who people think he is but it's not the important part. I'm a ballet dancer and I can make myself more precise in my movements because that's how he moves."

He shrugged and tugged at his trousers, his only sign of nervousness. "My teachers, Ms. Sokoll, _Tio_ Mike and especially my main teacher Brittany have taught me that precision is super hard and it isn't funny. It's something beautiful to have as a dancer. My _Tio _Kurt moves that way. I don't move like that in real life. I take up space like most boys do but I can pull myself inward because I've been trained to for dance. Girls sort of always seem to try to take up less space because…I guess that's what girls are like anyway, mostly, but Quinn told me they learn it too. Is that right, MQ?"

She smiled at him and turned to the audience. "Yes, I explained to him that it's cultural too. Girls are born the way they are, just like boys and it's innate but they're also learning what's expected from a boy or girl in our culture as well. We ARE the way we come into this world but try to ACT the way the world wants us to be. And that's sometimes not the same thing."

LQ nodded. "When she told me that it made total sense. It's sort of like when my brother Little Noah and I are sitting in the back seat of a car with our sister Berry sitting between us. Noah and I sit like this." He sprawled his legs and arms out. "It makes Berry crazy because we take up all the room and Berry sits like this."

He drew himself in, sat up straight and put his knees and ankles together. "It's a big difference but I see it with _Tio_ Kurt—how different he is from my father or my _Tio _Mike or _Tio _Zac and not because he isn't a real man or because of his voice or even because he dresses different. I think it's how he moves."

He bit his lip and said. "Mr. Adams? MQ told me about this and she said I would probably ask how I did the role. Right?"

Adam Anders nodded.

"When a boy makes himself smaller in space instead of bigger than he is and he moves with more flourish—that's what Ms. Sokoll calls it—I think it makes people think he's being like a girl and then they call him names, which isn't fair. Or maybe a little girl takes up space like a boy and then they call her names because she seems more like a boy. I know sometimes the names are just mean and dumb but sometimes kids call kids names that are sort of really true and make those kids hurt more because they really _are_ gay and that's super unfair."

He looked down at the table and then up at the audience.

"The reason they chose me was because I love my _Tio_ Kurt and I thought maybe if they couldn't find a little boy just like him, I could act him better than some other little boy who doesn't know him and maybe didn't understand that stuff like we do. _Tio_ Kurt wrote it about him and I wanted to be him _for _him and for Quinn."

Kurt smiled at him, with tears brimming in his eyes, "You certainly accomplished that, mister. It really was like looking at me when I was little. Thank you so much."

L smiled back at him, "Thank you,_ Tio _Kurt."

"And Ms. Lopez?"

She shrugged, "When I read the script, I couldn't believe Quinn was thinking about casting LQ in this movie. You saw it. The story's about this little gay kid getting basically gay-bashed by his entire school, coming home for more of the same with his own_ mami_ and then saved by a social worker played by Valerie. I was immediately all hell no but he wanted to do it so I decided I wouldn't have any son of mine getting his metaphorical teeth smashed down his throat unless it was by me."

The audience just had to laugh at this and L put his head on the table, laughing, then lifted it and said, "That's all sorts of just wrong,_ Mami_."

The audience laughed as Santana shifted, blushed and shrugged in her chair. "So?"

He laughed and rested his head on her shoulder for a moment.

Quinn said, "L coming on board meant huge anxiety for me but he could play a sort of Kurt so easily it was scary. Remember I _knew _Kurt when he was ten. But him and San? Neither of them liked or wanted to act. She just said, 'I can play his_ mami_. I AM his _mami_.' So I let her read and who knew? It was effortless for her, too. What I'll say and she'll want to kill me for was that was completely the way it went. LQ was doing the part and she didn't want any other person to say such horrible things to her little boy. She knew he'd know she didn't mean it."

Santana glared at her, "And now you're completely exploding my bad-ass factor."

"What little you have." Quinn said as she waved Santana off with a hand. "We had seven weeks. On L's summer break. It was bam bam bam. He had so many scenes and if you don't know what the time constraints for shooting with kids are, legally? It's crazy. Never again. But I'm tremendously proud of the film."

Valerie said, "Quinn actually fought for this film from the moment she decided to do it. She got a stellar actor in one Quinn Pierce and another in Santana Lopez and just ran with it. For Kurt. Easy peasy."

Adam asked, "L, I was really moved by the scene where your mom called you a fag because you dyed your hair and made you get it cut. That was huge for me."

L leaned forward into his mic. "It was sort of easy to act. Obviously my hair is naturally brown. I like my hair longer than most boys and I like it blond and have it that way in real life. In the movie, I had to have it shaved and dyed back to what I'd look like without stuff on my hair. Having it cut was horrible."

Santana said, "Watching that, saying those hateful words to him and he's my son? And watching him getting his head shaved because of his character's mother's ignorance? It was easy to act because my boy was having something very essential to him taken from him. It wasn't hard for him to cry or me to cry. I saw my character was trying to force his character—everything about him—from him. It wasn't hard to cry."

Kurt looked at them at all. L had made a flawless little Spanglish cinematic HIM. Quinn had torn the cover off the baseball hitting it out of the park directing and Santana had been so vicious to her boy on film that he'd want to kill her for that boy. Valerie had exuded every light and hope to that child he'd ever wanted in school. And they'd done it all for him.

He said, "All of these people and a wonderful crew made this film and only maybe a few of them really wanted to. I can never thank them enough. My guy L. Thank you. Quinn. What can I say to you after all these years? Except maybe 'yes, ma'am.'"

The audience laughed.

"Santana? You have always astonished me. You show up and just deliver. Good or bad? You always deliver."

The audience laughed at her rolling of her eyes.

"Valerie? Why don't you come on over, Valerie?"

Valerie laughed, "And what am I gettin' if I do, Kurt?"

"Movie and a pizza?"

"Thass all? As Q would say? Typical."

Adam didn't like people running his show although it always seemed to happen around Quinn.

He asked it. "I have one more question for L. Beryl had a tiny role in the movie and so did your brother Noah. What was it like seeing Beryl on Broadway?"

Ah! Quinn knew it. Speaking of typical. She should have smelled the theater geek in Adam.

L smiled. "It was great. It's been like almost two years and the show's almost over for her now. But it's so much work, she's been home-schooling and Noah and I don't like her away from us at school. Seeing it the first time was the most ridonkulous thing ever. I should always say she's sharing her role of Adelaide with Gina Armstrong. Berry always gets the attention because of our parents and that's not cool."

Everyone on the table nodded as he continued, "They share the role because they're kids like me and kids shouldn't do eight times a week in a starring role. Gina A is completely amazing and Berry would be the first to say so. Anyway, they tossed a coin and Berry got to open it. When I saw my little sister singing on Broadway for the first time, I felt like…"

He paused and gaped a little.

Santana smirked and said, "It's okay. Feelings won't kill a guy."

He smirked back at his mother, "I know that and whatever, _Mami._ And I know I'm getting in trouble for saying that later."

She socked his shoulder gently, "Uh huh."

He looked out at the audience and smiled, "Anyway. I felt like my heart was doing something and would flip out of my mouth on my lap or something. We've all grown up with it so we know what opening on Broadway means."

He smiled at the memory. "It was the best night ever. I'm so proud of this movie because it means so much to us and maybe some people will think about how sad someone like _Tio_ Kurt was growing up and how other kids still are and not be so mean. But no matter what I do forever, it won't be like seeing Berry opening on Broadway. After she finishes the run, she can come back to school with us. After all, we're just kids. And yeah—that was sort of shout out to my Mommy Rachel and to her Broadway debut _After All_. We can't forget Rachel, can we, MQ?"

"Never. I think L said everything I wanted to. Maybe ever. See? We aren't raising dumb kids. And sorry Adam, but that ends this AFI screening of Tommy, Age Ten."

* * *

**A/N And when was Lea on Broadway the first time? Age eight. So…**

**I understand if you hate this. But for you few who've only met kiddy kids, please don't write me AGAIN and tell me kids can't be this smart or self aware. Go see Dakota Fanning interviews when she was SIX years old, much less eight or ten, okay?  
**


	86. Chapter 86

**A/N: Disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Remember, as discussed in the last chapter, this story was finished at the time jump. So, if you finished through Chapter 60, that's about all you need to read. These are throwaways from the future and past. Read them or don't. But for God's sake if you hate this story, stop reading it. Read something better, shorter and more interesting. The list of stories so described is endless. **

**For all of you who don't care and are out, like me, for a drive in the car of this particular fanfic, rolling our windows down and just letting the wind whip our hair, thanks for riding along. I adore hearing from you.**

**I can NOT keep the conventions of twitter, okay? FF doesn't accept them. Accept what I'll try to say with them.**

**Age 42/Children 16/Friday Night.**

"L! Noah! Come here right this second please!"

"Berry! Stop with the volume! I could hear you on Mars." L smiled at Noah's old joke as they met in the hallway and obediently rushed to their sister's room. They were all getting ready for a Cal Newsome's birthday party and the boys were already dressed.

Little Noah still had a Mohawk but was no longer little. He played the guitar, piano and football. He was six feet tall and, because of the strength training for his sport, a burly young man. He looked very much like his father facially and physically and wanted to be a rock star or a robotics engineer when he grew up. Or maybe both.

Facially, L had inherited Santana's more delicate features and higher cheekbones. He played the piano and the drums, but he already had a career. He'd danced on Broadway a few times and was dancing part-time with the New York City Ballet. After discussing the issue with his parents, he'd decided to defer dancing full-time until he'd finished high school because rules for minor children performers were strict and prohibitive and he might as well train while he could. He was 5'10" and had the lean, tight muscles dancing four hours or more every day had given him. His physique was nearly exactly like his _Tio_ Mike's.

Berry was Berry. She already had a career, as well. Broadway. And diva. Professionally and privately.

She was only five feet tall but relatively undismayed that she was unlikely to ever be taller. She was back in school with her brothers after three years away now because her newest role was in a production that was only in workshop creatively. Her first year in high school! She looked nearly exactly like Rachel facially and physically except for the facts she was shorter and her dark hair was wavier.

The brothers arrived at her room. Noah asked, "Ssup, Ber?"

Berry had spread five outfits out on her bed. "As young gentlemen, I'd appreciate your telling me which one of these outfits will most catch the attention of Jason Threadwell tonight!"

Noah forced himself not to roll his eyes. Berry had set her sights and he and his brother were appalled. Jason Threadwell was a year older than they were, the quarterback on his team and a complete douche. He was also 6'4", which was just wrong even_ thinking_ about with his tiny baby sister. Noah eyed the outfits on the bed with the idea of covering Berry up as much as possible so he could actually talk to girls instead of worrying about Jason putting his catcher's mitt hands on her all night.

L felt the same way. He hated Jason Threadwell because his sister liked him and those feelings were apparently unreturned and almost seemed like entertainment for the boy. It was obvious to him that if Berry looked at Jason twice, the dude should have immediately been on his knees worshipping her, which would not only be right because she deserved it but then they'd be about the same height.

Jason was a moron but Berry was insistent and L knew they couldn't really do anything when she was determined so he said, "I think you should skip the skirts, Ber, because it's a barbeque and we'll be hanging out outside. You'll be warmer and you'll look casual and sophisticated with the black jeans rather than the blue and…some red flats and…that red sweater instead of the green. Red's really flattering with your coloring."

Berry beamed up at L even as Noah smirked at him and said, "Dude. You're so gay."

"Right. Said the bro who wishes he had girls all over him like I do."

"Said the bro looking at a bro with a barrette holding back his pretty blond hair."

Berry sniffed, "L is metrosexual, Noah Pierce, and that never hurt David Beckham so you both may stop bickering. That said, you're more typically male. As is Jason. Should I wear my hair up or down?"

L smirked back at Noah. "Burn. Way to go Noah. In the same category as Jason." He lifted one eyebrow just like his namesake and Noah wanted to strangle him. Berry was so oblivious about Jason's douche-status, she didn't even get the joke and they both wanted to strangle _her_. Par for the course. They were teen siblings.

Noah flipped a coin in his mind. What would look hot and how to avoid that. She was his sister. What was hot? He said "Down," just as L said, "Up."

They glared at each other as Berry beamed. "Up it is! Thank you! I'll be ready in fifteen minutes!"

As she closed the door on them, Noah punched L in the shoulder and hissed quietly as they walked down the hall. "The fuck? Up looks sexy."

L whispered, "I _know_. And _whatever._ She's not wearing a skirt and she's wearing flats because of me, dude. That piece of crap won't see her legs but when her hair's up and she's in flats, it'll be a mind-fuck for Mr. Girnormous because she's the size of a liter of soda to him and she'll look more intimidating than he thinks he is. She's our little sister but she's Beryl Pierce, too. He's scared as shit of her and we need to keep it that way."

They walked down the hall and Noah thought about it and had to admit, "Good thinking, balleroony."

"Thanks, ape-paws."

This was completely harmless. The brothers were very different but loved each other fiercely and were united in a fraternal passion to keep douchbaggery from their sister. It sometimes felt like a losing battle because Berry, in her first and perhaps only year of high school, depending on her career, seemed to have a douche detector that completely baffled them.

But they could try. That there were four other females in the house who could have given Berry 'girl' advice and she chose her brothers didn't seem strange to any of them.

* * *

_Flashback. Children 13._

_Puck had given the boys 'the talk' when they were ten. Berry had gotten the talk from Quinn and told her brothers it had happened and that she never, ever wanted to talk about it. They completely understood. The children already knew about IVF and how'd they'd come into existence from nearly infancy but 'where do babies _usually _come from' had been a different discussion. _

_The boys got another talk when they were thirteen._

"_So—okay." Puck was sweating. He handed two Cokes to the boys and swigged his own, wishing they were beers or maybe a tequila shot or three for him. "You know how babies get here…I mean, about sex." _

_L and Noah nodded frantically, hoping that would make their dad shut up and not talk. It didn't work._

"_Sorry but I gotta tell you a little more, okay?" He took a deep breath and his obvious anxiety made the boys exponentially more anxious. _

"_What you always have to remember, is that sex can be fun but it has consequences. I want to get something out of the way quick. I don't know who you guys might have sex with one day. I get that sons might think for a lot of reasons a dad like me could be a shitbird about who. Not me, dudes. So maybe it'll be a girl or maybe a guy. I really won't care which one and I'll love you no matter what. That's completely over from now on. Promise. Straight or gay. You're my sons." _

_He took a deep breath._

"_Sex. Okay. The main thing is you have to take care of yourself and take care of her or him. I won't drag it out. I have some booklets here you'd better read or fucking else and I'm not kidding because I'm seriously trying not to skeeve you guys too much. So you can read them and not have to listen to me instead because this is killing me too, okay?" _

_The boys nodded. _

"_Promise me you'll read them so you can get out of jail free about this?"_

_Noah and L smiled gratefully at their father and said in unison, "Promise."_

_Puck power chugged his soda. "Don't think I'm not quizzing you. Okay. You know how you guys and Berry got born, right?"_

_They nodded and Noah answered, "IVF."_

"_Right. You know how your sister Beth got born?" The two boys immediately looked at the floor. They knew._

"_Right. I was irresponsible with your mother Quinn. She was irresponsible with me. Both of us were, guys, but when you're the guy with a girl and you both really mess up, it'll hurt her a million times worse than it'll ever hurt you. That's just true. I want to tell you that because you're my sons and it's on you, as men, if you ever have sex with anyone, to make sure you don't hurt someone. The booklets explain how not to hurt someone or get hurt yourself in a health way and you seriously need to know this stuff."_

_He took a deep breath. "Sex isn't nothing, dudes. When I was your age I sort of thought it was just something a badass did. Score with lots of girls. It was like a game." _

_He shrugged and finished his soda. "If you want to be as stupid as I was and want to look at it that way? Okay. It's just like football, Noah. You wouldn't just hit the field without your pads and helmet. Or like ballet, L. You wouldn't just run out and dance without stretching. It's just that easy but it's a decision you have to make. You have to protect yourself every time and remember it's not always like some fair ride you can jump on and have fun and forget. If you don't protect yourself, physically or with the whole feelings thing, people get hurt. You can get hurt or she or he can. It's something that can be forever for you and the other person if you don't protect yourself. The one thing I'll say you better write down in blood and I am so fucking not kidding?" _

_He stared at them and they nodded. _

"_People have sex for all sorts of reasons. Teen guys usually have sex 'cause it feels good and makes them feel badass but even guys sometimes have sex when they really just want a dumbass hug and to feel like someone really likes them." _

_His face was sadder than they'd ever seen it but he smiled at them. "Never have sex with anyone when you aren't happy about it or if you can see the other person isn't really happy about it. If you're not happy, it'll feel good for a minute and then you'll feel like shit for a long, long time. If the other person isn't happy, it can make a world of hurt and you'd be scumbags if you took advantage of someone if she or he just needed a hug or to just talk but was maybe too confused or sad not to give you sex instead."_

_Puck crushed his coke can in his hand. _

"_Don't ever have sex just because. Have it safely and because it'll be fun for you and that other person. Fun for both of you. Better than that, because you love someone. Don't ever have sex just because you can. Sex isn't a joke. It's important. It's not nothing and it's not something you just do. I'm your father and you know I didn't have one." _

_Puck looked down at the floor and scuffed it with one boot. _

"_I'm telling you this because I didn't have a dad to talk to me when I was your age. I wish like hell I had. I love you and I want to be a good father and raise better guys than I was." _

_He took a moment before he grinned at them, "I know you hate this but I'm not fucking around here. I made a lot of mistakes when I was a young guy and I don't want you to look back when you're my age and feel like sacks of crap about some of the stuff you did, okay?"_

_They nodded as he handed them the booklets, "Read this stuff and if you have questions, you can ask me anything you want and I'll be as cool as I can be with you, okay? If you want to talk to another parental instead of me, I'd say in order of who would be best to worst? Girl Sam next, then probably San, because they'd be guys about it. Britts might be too much a little in your face because she just says stuff—no sugar-coat."_

_L snorted, "Was _this_ sugar-coating?" _

_Puck shrugged, "Go ahead, talk to your mommy and you'll find out." _

_L and Noah knew exactly what he meant and smiled. "Then Quinn. Quinn would actually be perfect but she'd be a little scary. Rach is my Jew but she'd be last because if you think this shit was bad, you'd get an hour-long PowerPoint from her." _

_They boys looked at each other and snickered. _

"_Okay guys. Almost done. I think I should also tell you that sex is great but when it's not just fun, not just because you and somebody hot want to feel happy together? When it's because you love someone, you'll finally find out what all the shoutin's about. When you're in love, it's the real deal. That's it. Talk over."_

_Noah nodded as he took his booklet, kissed his father on the cheek and said, "Thanks, dad." Then he nearly ran from the room._

_L smiled at his father's sweaty face and jerked his chin toward the door, "He's your namesake but, sorry, he's such a pussy. That was way worse for you than us, wasn't it?"_

"_Dude. Like you don't even know." _

_L held out a fist and Puck knuckle-bumped him. _

"_Thanks, dad. Just so you know? I'm pretty positive Noah and me are straight. But I'm pretty positive Berry is, too. That can't feel good." _

_Puck scowled at the thought of his younger daughter being straight. Beth's being straight was enough. This doubled the number of young men he had to terrify. Then again, the fact L and Little Noah were straight was a relief because he couldn't imagine having to scare off four sets of shitbird guys._

_L smiled at him and looked exactly as if he'd read his thoughts. Puck thought he probably had. Little Noah was a little him but LQ was a mensch and Puck had known that since the day the kid could speak. _

_L kissed his cheek and hugged him, then left with his booklet in hand. _

_Puck smiled as he watched L leave and wondered at the idea of fatherhood. He thought about the doctor who'd delivered Beth. The guy had been right. He'd been a baby daddy then. Now he was a _father_. He liked that his sons were real dudes but still kissed him. He liked, when other kids their age were too embarrassed to be seen with their parents, not one of the four of them ever acted like that. He ran his hands through his hair. The kids had six parents and seemed happy. He'd only had one parent and that had been hard enough. They must be doing something right._

* * *

Typical.

Noah, L and Berry walked into the family room and weren't surprised.

Their moms were so boring. Just sitting cuddled up in pairs. Watching a movie together.

They were movie stars and Broadway stars and pop stars and dance stars but they never went out and trashed hotels or drank too much and got papped falling out of limos. No commando shots, no botox, no plastic surgery. The kids didn't exactly want that but it was difficult enough to go to school being the famous children of four super-famous lesbians. Their mothers weren't even_ interesting_ super-famous lesbians. They only cooked meals and exercised in their gym or watched movies, SyFy and endless BBC mini-series. They played Wii, iPad and board games together. That was about it. Boring.

Santana paused the movie and said, "Curfew. 11:30."

They all rolled their eyes.

Brittany said, "For real? Eye rolls? Disrespect _mami _time?"

All of the children immediately said, "Sorry, _mami_."

Brittany nodded and smiled at them.

Rachel said, "You look very handsome, guys, and you look very pretty, Berry."

Berry smiled at her mother. "Thank you. I'll teach Jason Threadwell!"

Quinn tilted her head. They all went to Noah's football games. "He's the quarterback—that really tall guy?"

Berry answered brightly, "Yes!"

Santana groaned as Quinn gave Rachel a sour look, "See what you did? Déjà vu all over again." Rachel play-smacked Quinn on the arm and said "You dated him, too, missy." Quinn rolled her eyes because she could and pointed between Noah and L, then at Berry. "Eyes on the prize, young men. Or call me."

They nodded.

Berry stamped her foot. "We already have security protection. I don't need handling at the party!"

Rachel stood and put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "You don't. You need people who love you, Berry. You have brothers. I had no one when I was your age. Quinn, Brittany and Santana kept me safe at a party when I was sixteen and your granddaddy Eric and granddad Jacob taught me after that it was safety first, happiness second. Your brothers will always keep you safe. It might not be fun for any of you but they will."

"I know. I _know_. But Cal's parents are going to be there, Mom. It's at his house with his parents! We'll be drinking soda or punch! We're not going to a barbarian teen kegger party."

Noah saw this was only an issue because it was cutting against the grain of Berry's pride so he said, "What MR is saying, Ber, is what's the 13th commandment?"

L thought for one second and said, "Nobody hurts Berry!"

Santana smiled and agreed, "Exactly. So say we all?"

The boys said, "So say we all."

Berry was bitter but wasn't particularly upset about having her own commandment. She smiled.

Santana said, "We gotsa movie going so time to get going, younger people. Called the car for you. It's out front. Have fun and call for it when you're ready to come home."

The children all kissed their mothers in turn before leaving.

* * *

Cal Newsome was a football player. Sorta. He was a kicker. His parents had money. Actually, everyone in their school had money if they were attending their really exclusive private school. He was a nice enough guy and there wasn't really any huge reason not to go.

The Pierce-Lopez kids were always invited to parties but rarely went to them.

Depending on the mix of kids who might be there, it could run from a little awkward to very awkward. There were more than a few famous people's kids at the school and nearly everyone had divorced parents or sets of step-parents. Actually, it was weird if someone's parents were still together. But no other kids had two sets of very intact-couple mothers on purpose and a dad and a step-mom. No one had four super-famous parents. Everyone on the planet seemed to know their mothers. Everyone could Google them. Magazine racks? There they were. It was strange to walk out anywhere feeling like they needed to gird themselves for anything.

To add to the focus of being four stars' children, two of the kids were slightly famous themselves. Berry had performed on Broadway three times and was quite well known. All of their classmates had seen L in his movie, which he'd had to sit through at their school because it was required viewing. For tolerance. For diversity. That had been mortifying for him. Everyone knew he danced for productions and companies far beyond the scope of most teens. There were multiple tumblrs dedicated to either or both of them and some included Noah.

Berry adored the attention and high school was a way to experience what she'd missed having been tutored at home and at work for years. L liked high school well enough but hated the attention. He already had a career path and had to put so much time into training for it, he felt very apart from the other kids at school.

Noah laughed it all off and at both of them because he was, as he put it, the only really 'normal' person in the house. But it was true. He was having the most normal experience of all of them. He liked high school and he liked being a popular guy. Despite this, when they were in the same room, they tended to stick together because they all felt the equal weight of fame and of their unconventional family. As triplets they also formed, without even necessarily planning to, a natural and insular clique.

They took deep breaths and Noah rang the doorbell. The brownstone door was answered by a man who asked their names and checked a guest list. Noah rolled his eyes as the man found their names, smiled at them and stepped out of their way, saying "Follow the music. The party's in the garden."

They passed through a damned impressive home and out into the evening air. It was a beautiful garden and there were food tents, rows of chairs and tables, a live dj and a temporary dance floor. Most of their school seemed to be there.

Berry pulled L down to her height, "Can you do the polite for me and say hello to Cal? Hannah and Abbie are already there with Jason."

"Sure." All three kids had exceptional manners.

She already had her star face on. She'd seen her target, which wasn't hard. He was the tallest boy there and her bestie Hannah and second bestie Abbie were trying to keep him occupied. As she strode toward Jason Threadwell, L said to Noah, "I'll do the etiquette crap. Look out—three o'clock. Your bud cockblocker Charlie's about to hit her. Go first!"

Noah looked and smiled, "Thanks dude." Noah gave Charlie a pointed look and the guy jerked his head at him. Charlie had been about to pounce but he gave Noah a thumbs-up as he approached a girl named Antonia they thought was smokin' hot. Noah had seen her hotness first and they had rules that meant first meant first try. Noah didn't just think she was hot. He sort of secretly thought she was really funny and sweet and smart, too.

L found Cal, thanked him for the invitation and wished him a happy birthday from the family. He exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes as he scoped the party. His eyes fell upon two ultra blonde kids he'd never seen before sitting in a corner off by themselves. He sighed. Quinn had taught them to always extend themselves to people no one was talking to but he, of all of the children, had really taken it to heart so he excused himself from Cal, crossed the garden and introduced himself.

The children stood and the shorter boy said in slightly accented English, "We are honored to meet you, Quinn Pierce-Lopez. I am Andor Fjelstad and please may I present my younger sister Astrid?" She was Rachel's height. Rachel was exactly 5'2" and so was Astrid. She was wearing huge glasses and seemed incredibly shy if the deep blush on her cheeks was any indication. She was also wearing clothes so deeply uncool she shouldn't have been let out of the house in them. She only nodded at L and tried to smile up at him.

Andor continued, "Caleb's father gave us this party invitation because his father works with mine. We are newly imported from Norway, so to speak, and will be at your school now. I am your age and my sister one year younger. It is kind for you to talk to us. No one else has."

L wanted to snap at that. That wouldn't do. He looked from the Norwegian kids to his sister doing her best with Hannah and Abbie and Jason surrounded by a few boys and Noah doing his best with Antonia all by himself. Typical.

"It's very nice to meet you. Please let me introduce you to my sister first, then my brother."

Andor blushed, "To meet _you_ is such an honor already. My sister and I have seen your movie many times and it touched us both very deeply."

L smiled down at them and channeled all of his mothers, "Thank you very much. That's so kind of you to say and I'm so grateful you watched and enjoyed it. But you'll find out quickly I'm no movie star. I'm just another teenage boy. My brother Noah," he pointed, "the boy with the Mohawk, is _really _another teenage boy. How about my sister first?"

"We'll be interrupting. It's an imposition."

L smiled. "No worries."

* * *

L glared at Jason, "Excuse me, Jason. Just gotsda do the intro thing. Jason, George, Andrew, Hannah, Abbie, Christian? We have new kids at school. They're from Norway and their names are Andor and Astrid Fjelstad."

L so very infrequently insinuated himself into social situations it was always unnerving but the kids all accepted it and introduced themselves to their new schoolmates. The Norwegian kids were a little gobsmacked and L felt it. He finally said "Astrid Fjelstad, this is my sister, Beryl Pierce-Lopez."

Berry shook the girl's hand and greeted her with her show smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Astrid." She turned to Andor, who was completely overwhelmed and lowered his head slightly. "I am Andor Fjelstad and honored to meet someone I've seen many times onstage when I have traveled here with my father. It's difficult to believe I'm meeting you. Thank you for the privilege of your acquaintance."

Andor Fjelstad was 5'5" and a handsome young man. He had nearly white blond hair, bright and glacial blue eyes almost like _Tio_ Ryk's, and as Berry shook his hand, Jason Threadwell completely disappeared for her.

Berry smiled at them all. "Andor, Astrid. Let's have some punch, shall we?" Hannah and Abbie smiled and immediately made themselves scarce. Thank GOD Berry had someone to take her mind off that gigantor Jason Threadwell. They were thrilled they could stop talking to him. That said and done, they both wished L wasn't doing his weirdly-nice thing with the new kids. Half the girls at school were smitten with Noah. All of them were smitten with L. He smiled and was always sweet but he was so unapproachable.

Jason was completely surprised Berry left him. L smirked and made the slightest of 'fuck you with horns' sign at the larger boy with one hand as they moved to the punchbowl.

Score QUINN! Noah thought as he watched Jason cockblocked. Noah felt like life couldn't get better. He turned to Antonia and smiled.

Andor and Berry immediately began talking and were so obviously hitting if off that it left L with Astrid, who said "You don't have to stay here with me, Quinn. You must have many friends at this party. I'll be alright by myself. Andor won't leave me alone for very long."

L looked down into her eyes. She was so tiny and so uncool and not beautiful in any conventional way but pretty in a slightly unusual way. A pretty and nearly pixie-ish, unusual way.

"I have friends, sure, and a brother and a sister and after we find out what sort of food's going to be on the grill, I'll introduce you to them."

"Ah yes. You're a vegetarian."

"How'd you know that?"

"You're very…well. You're…"

"Wait-a-second. Are you a fan of mine?"

She took a deep breath and exhaled it. "Yes."

L nodded and held out his hand, "Okay. Let's stop right there. Hi. I'm not Quinn Pierce. I'm L Pierce-Lopez. Nice to meet you."

She shook it. "I'm Astrid Fjelstad."

"Would you honor me with a dance?"

"I would but I apologize. You're a dancer. I don't know how to dance."

L smiled and shrugged. "Then you're lucky I _am_ a dancer. And I promise I won't let you fail or fall."

She _really_ was no dancer. But he held her and guided her through many songs. Different songs, fast and slow. He was completely committed and sometimes shook her body gently and said things like, "Loosen up, Astrid. It's only me. I'm the pro, girl, and errybody knows it. We can look as stupid as we wanna."

She'd never had anyone except her parents or Andor touch her gently or even firmly with kindness. In slow songs, he taught her to waltz. During fast songs, she tried her best but found herself laughing nearly hysterically because he was almost lifting her and shifting her and moving her through the songs. She was completely entranced because he was smiling down at her and sometimes nearly choking with laughter she knew was not_ at_ her but _with_ her as he supported her moving around him. It was the most unexpected and joyful, magical evening of her life. He was perfect.

When they'd finished because the DJ announced the food, he bowed to her and said, "Remember this. That's what guys lucky enough to ever have dance partners like you do, Astrid. They bow knowing they were lucky to share your company in dance. Thank you. And now we're going to find out what me and my bro and especially my sister can eat. You won't take pictures and you won't talk on Facebook or twitter or anything else because we'll be friends sharing a meal, right?"

Astrid smiled up at him, pulled out her phone and tweeted:

**AstridFjel: About to have party food with LQuinn! #calparty**

"Is that okay?" She showed it to him and asked before she sent it.

He looked at it. It was sweet and it meant something to her. Connection. L pulled out his phone and said, "Absolutely. Send it, grrl, and hug up with me." She was breathless as she hugged him and he took a picture of them both.

He tweeted "**LQuinn:** **AstridFjel **'Bout to help me find veggie food! Dancing = food. We're starving teen animals. (url to pic) **#calparty**

**NoahPL**: People? **LQuinn AstridFjel** eating ALL the veggie stuff. Trying to get in the game! **antoniaj **helping **#calparty**

**antoniaj: **I'm scared, peeps. Vegetarian bros R fierce! (url to pic of Noah and Quinn scowling over buffet) **#calparty**

**LQuinn: NoahPL: **Snooze, you lose, big bro. Boo-yah!

**NoahPL:LQuinn:** But who got the last of the marinated asparagus? Boo-yah!

**LQuinn: NoahPL: **Right. That was so manly I can barely stand it

**NoahPL:LQuinn: **WTFE and STFU blondie

**LQuinn: NoahPL: **Dude. We're text-tweeting standing right next to each other like R and S

**NoahPL:LQuinn: **U…R…right and thass just wrong. Eat—turn your phone off. Wait. Don't—B's mad! Bye!

**MsBerylPierce: LQuinn, NoahPL, AstridFjel, antoniaj:** I'm reading you. I'm hungry! You're eating things only I can eat. I find myself displeased. **#calparty**

**LQuinn: MsBerylPierce: **U got the last of marinated asparagus B. Huge vegan plate saved for you. By me & **NoahPL**. Natch. Who loves ya? **#calparty**

**LQuinn: **By the way and fyi? **MsBerylPierce **is a very small vegan anaconda

**NoahPL:** **LQuinn; MsBerylPierce**: Ruh roh! Truth!

**MsBerylPierce: LQuinn: NoahPL:** I resent that! And yet the platter my insolent brothers saved me does look yummy! (url to pic of an enormous plate of food) **#calparty**

**MsBerylPierce: **Andor doesn't have a twitter account. Hmmm. Here we are! (url to a pic of **MsBerylPierce**, Andor,** NoahPL** , **LQuinn,** **AstridFjel, antoniaj** scrunched in at a table) **#calparty**

**MsBerylPierce: **Birthday Boy Cal Newsome! **Calnew, MsBerylPierce, NoahPL, LQuinn, AstridFjel, antoniaj** and Andor! (url to pic of everyone around a table) **#calparty**

**Calnew:** Best birthday ever, everybody! Thank you! **#calparty**

**On the ride home…**

**AstridFjel: LQuinn, MsBerylPierce, NoahPL, antoniaj** You were so kind. Thank you so much

**LQuinn:** **AstridFjel** Thank you. Bowing and you know why

**MsBerylPierce:** **AstridFjel** No. Thank you and Andor for such a lovely evening

**NoahPL:** **AstridFjel** Thank YOU. Andor? Badass? Don't think you're staying off twitter long, bro

**antoniaj: AstridFjel:** Gotta get ready for school! We gotta go shopping tomorrow! Call me, new girl!

Antonia _was_ hot but she actually _was_ smart and funny and she knew a girl who needed fashion emergency help when she saw one. She was also nice enough to act like she wasn't helping.

Quinn, Noah and Berry felt confirmation about Antonia with one tweet. They smiled.

Their mothers, father and step-mother read every tweet. When the children came home, their mothers smiled as they pretended to be asleep. It was 12 and the kids had broken curfew. They'd let them think they got away with it.

* * *

As soon as the kids arrived in the darkened house, they smiled at each other because they _knew_ their parents were awake.

L hugged Berry and kissed her on top of her head, "Sweet dreams, _estrellita_."

Noah said, "No hogging the sister, bro. Gimme." He gently pulled her out of L's arms, hugged her quickly and kissed her head. "You were badass tonight, Ber. Prettiest girl there by far."

She beamed up at them and stage-whispered. "Thank you Noah! Thank you L! You were the nicest men at the party. As per usual. I love you both and hope you have a fully restorative sleep!"

She turned, semi-marched away and her brothers sighed. Very, very Berry.

L shoulder-bumped Noah. "Antonia's cool."

"Been knowing that. What about that Astrid?"

"What about her?"

"Smaller glasses, better clothes, she'd be cute."

"She's cute exactly the way she is."

Noah snorted. "Knew it. You like her and Berry likes that Andor guy. You think he's okay?"

Noah noted that L didn't deny the Astrid thing as he said, "I think he's perfect. He's respectful and nice and he's really short for a guy."

Noah nodded, "Mad love for the respect and the nice but the short nails it for me."

"Right? When it comes to guys, I want Berry's two-bite brownie size."

They shared a long, silent moment.

"That sounded totally gay, dude."

"Yeah. It did. Whatever. Go to bed, rock star."

"You too, balleroony."

They gave each other a one shoulder guy hug and went to their rooms.

**Texting, 15 minutes later**

**Santana Lopez:** They're home safe and sound and sounds like they had fun  
**Noah Puckerman:** Tks 4 telling me. Frm tweets, I smell teen spirit  
**Santana Lopez:** Me, too. Kiss Sam for me  
**Noah Puckerman:** I'll kiss her for me—not you—I know you  
**Santana Lopez:** You're just worried a kiss from me would be…transformative  
**Noah Puckerman: **Whatever, Optimus Prime  
**Santana Lopez: **As hobbs would say? NOAH!  
**Noah Puckerman**: !

* * *

**A/N Next Chapter? Faberry, and much younger.  
**


	87. Chapter 87

**Disclaimers from Chapter One apply. Again? This story was finished at the time jump. So, if you finished through Chapter 60, that's all you need to read. The rest are throwaways from the future and past. **

* * *

**A/N I'm glad a few of you like to dip into these random episodes. I truly appreciate your comments and your kindness. I've had about 97% kindness from people reading this story and I include in that people who are constructively critical or who have just given up. Knowing that I've given any one of you a pleasant way to spend a few minutes on your computer or phone (at school or work or wherever), made you laugh or reintroduced you to a vocabulary word (smiling) has made this story as long as it is. You responded and I responded right back. I wanted it to be about four chapters. Look at it now. **

**And for you 3% who just despise this story and keep reading and reviewing it? You're deeply masochistic and you'll hate this chapter too! I'm breathless with antici….pation.**

**Note? The young Quinn sees people the way she's been taught to.**

* * *

**Age Six**

Quinn Fabray looked at herself in the mirror. She had to do it to make sure her hair was okay but she hated looking at herself. It was her first day of real school. She'd been going to church kindergarten for two years and it had been more about Jesus, coloring and playing than learning anything. She liked Jesus a lot and not just because she sort of had to but she thought she got enough of Him at home and at church. She didn't like playing with the other kids and she could color at home. She was completely certain Jesus would have been as bored as she was in kindergarten.

She didn't like thinking about Jesus being bored because that was probably sinful but He'd done cool stuff with sheep and blind people and lepers and fish and wine and loaves and she didn't think He'd just hang out and color and paste stuff. She'd prayed to Jesus to help her. She thought Jesus replied to tough it out but that sounded like something her dad would say so she didn't know if she should trust that answer. She trusted Jesus because He seemed nice enough. She didn't know how to understand she didn't trust her dad all that much because that was probably a sin.

She was wearing a green headband, a yellow dress, green leggings and yellow ballet flats. She wasn't happy and actually a little frightened to be going to school but she also knew, because Toni had told her so, that she had to do something like frightening everyone else she'd meet that day and every day in school if she wanted to be anybody at all. Or that's what she thought Toni meant. Toni completely hated her but said she didn't need a loser little sister. Toni was clear about her having to scare people but not so clear about how to do it.

She looked at her image in the mirror and deeply into her own eyes. She was very, very pretty. So pretty it was all her father talked about, all anybody ever really talked about—about her. That was her. She knew she looked weirdly pretty to people. Or something maybe a little scary. She did know that. She hated that. She glared at herself in the mirror. Tried to look angry.

She saw immediately that wasn't the face. She didn't look angry. She looked sad.

She thought about it for a few moments and then tried to look like she knew a secret everyone wanted but she wouldn't tell. She sneered into the mirror.

Better. Yes.

That was exactly the look she needed. That was easy. She had lots of secrets.

* * *

She met Toni in the hall and they went downstairs. Her mother smiled at them as she stopped long enough from packing their lunches to kiss them both on their foreheads. "First day girls!"

Their father only half-smiled at Toni but saved his real smile for Quinn. He beamed at her and said, "First day of school for the prettiest girl on Earth!"

It was also Toni's first day in middle school. Their father didn't care about Toni's first day. Toni winced and glowered at Quinn and that made the younger girl feel, yet again, like she was stealing something she didn't even ask for or want. She never, ever felt comfortable with her father and her sister in the same room. She knew he'd ask her questions and not ask Toni anything and Toni would be mad at her like always and their mother would watch and look sad.

She also knew she couldn't do anything or say anything—about Jesus or kindergarten or Toni or her dad or being afraid of her first day at school. She took a sip of orange juice as she looked at her mother and wished she didn't look so sad and that she could talk to her.

* * *

It was a rainy day and school was already stupid. It smelled like rain and paste and books and the teacher's perfume and everybody's wet coats they'd all hung up on stupid hooks in a closet that smelled like too many shoes forever.

Quinn looked around. Tons of stupid kids. She scanned them and they included a scrawny boy in a wheelchair, a pretty skinny boy sitting in the corner next to a chubby Black girl. A tall boy who looked really stupid. A Black boy who looked scared because he was opening his desk and closing it, opening it and closing it. An Asian boy and girl who looked completely dorky and smiled at each other a lot. A dark-haired boy staring at her and jabbing a pencil into his desk. A tiny dark-haired brown girl with big dark eyes holding the hand of a taller girl with blonde hair and blue eyes.

This dark-haired girl sort of looked like she really wanted to or even might kill everyone in the classroom. Quinn was pleased. Exactly what she needed. She crossed the room and held out her hand, "Hello. I'm Quinn Fabray."

The tiny girl's expression said she hadn't expected a handshake or adult manners in first grade but she had evidently learned hers. To a degree. She extended her hand and they shook, "Santana Lopez and she's Brittany Pierce. You make fun of her you die."

Quinn took two seconds to digest this. "Why would I make fun of her?"

Brittany smiled brightly. "Because you don't know me yet! Like San said, I'm Brittany. Hi!" She extended her hand and Quinn shook it.

"Pleased to meet you."

The Santana girl narrowed her eyes at this even as they were interrupted by their teacher, Mrs. Arnold, introducing herself and then they began the laborious task of telling everyone their names and some things they liked and what they might want to do when they grew up.

It went on and on until the classroom door opened and a tiny, tiny girl walked in. She had huge dark eyes, dark hair, a large-ish nose and was wearing an argyle skirt with knee socks and a sweater with a frog on it. She beamed at her classmates.

"Hello, Mrs. Arnold, fellow classmates! I'm Rachel Berry! I apologize for my tardiness but someone ran into the back of my daddy's car on the way here so we had to go through the formalities of a traffic accident. No one was hurt but, still, I do apologize."

Mrs. Arnold smiled at her, "I'm glad to know no one was hurt. Your classmates had just finished introducing themselves, Rachel, and saying a little about their interests and what they thought they might like to be when they grew up."

Rachel beamed at the class, "I'm sorry I missed your answers but I hope you'll tell them to me later. My answer is that I'm Rachel Barbra Berry. My interests are many but primarily musical theater and performance. I'm going to work on Broadway as a singer."

Everyone stared at her. She was tiny, completely adorable but she sounded completely like a grown-up. She looked back at them with joy and an enormous smile. Brittany grinned at her and Santana smiled, as well. Actually, everybody smiled at the novelty of her.

Except Quinn.

Quinn had once fallen off a rooftop porch at her aunt's house when she was four years old. When she'd landed, she'd felt the air had been punched out of her lungs. She hadn't been able to breathe for what seemed like forever. Seeing this girl gave her exactly the same feeling. Her face and her eyes and her dumb nose and her loud voice and stupid clothes. She didn't look scared like she was or like that Santana girl was or any of the other kids. She didn't look like anything or anyone Quinn had ever seen and she felt like her chest would explode.

This Rachel girl was scary because she wasn't afraid. She knew this girl wouldn't be scared of her. She looked around the room and the other kids were smiling at her and Quinn couldn't breathe. She knew she had to hurt this girl if she wanted to breathe. What Toni said made so much sense if this was what she'd feel like at school.

When lunchtime came, she told Santana and Brittany they couldn't be nice to Rachel. No one could be friends with Rachel. No one could.

Brittany looked uncertain and sad. Santana thought it was the dumbest thing she'd ever heard but in the fight to make sure Brittany was okay, she saw this shiny blonde girl as the better bet. She was the most confident kid she'd ever met. Except for Rachel.

But Rachel was a dorky Jewish girl and a crazily pretty shiny blonde would probably always win. She watched Quinn shining her brilliant smile at Brittany. Watched Brittany unable not to smile back at her. Shiny blondes always won. Now she had two shiny blondes. That was obvious and although Santana was only six years old, she wasn't stupid.

* * *

Rachel went home that day knowing the prettiest girl she'd ever met thought her nose was too big and that her clothes were stupid and she looked like she smelled bad. She'd never heard a mean word uttered against her and she'd been stunned. When she heard the words, she was shocked so profoundly she could feel the blood rush from her hands and feet into her face, which felt like it was on fire.

She looked around for help but nobody disagreed. Which she guessed must mean everybody agreed. Especially the only girl who was almost as tiny as she was with such big brown ferocious eyes and even the tall blonde girl with cornflower blue eyes holding that girl's hand and looking like she wanted to cry.

Rachel, having been home-schooled, had been so excited to see all of these wonderful new potential friends. Her fathers had explained people might be mean because they had an unconventional family. She hadn't believed them. From the first day on, that changed. She was nothing and no one. Quinn changed her world that day and no one changed it back for ten years.

After decades, Rachel still remembered that day. She'd forgiven that day but she remembered it.

Quinn remembered it like a fiery brand on her body. Santana still often kicked the body bag in their home gym thinking about it. It never really went away for them. Loving someone so much in the now didn't change the past for them. They were both the sort of people who couldn't and never let things go.

Brittany and Rachel were the sort of people who let things go. Brittany held Rachel in her lap and talked about their submarine. While exploring the depths of the ocean, they pretended Rachel had always been one of the crew, instead of what she'd really been—the flotsam and jetsam of their childhood.

* * *

**Age 12**

"Is there a reason you're in my presence?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. She'd had enough. Three months into middle school and it was all the same but worse. She rolled her eyes. "I'm at my own locker, Quinn. Your locker is, thank God, nearly a hallway away from mine. I'm getting my history book. I'm not in your presence. You are in mine."

"You exist. You're in my way."

"Okay. If you choose to actually find me and come talk to me when I avoid you at all cost, yes, I'm in your way."

"Glad you see it that way."

"I don't but it won't matter. Your moronic hatred will continue."

"Did you say moronic?"

"Look who knows a polysyllabic word."

"Don't even start with me."

"Me? I didn't start with you. _You_ start everything. I never say a word._ You_ can't stop talking to _me_. Why can't you just go away? What's your problem and I hope you know it's_ your_ problem? I don't need you or want you in my existence. At all. Why can't you just go the fuck away?"

She slammed her locker and stormed off.

Quinn had never heard Rachel curse. It was just her luck that Santana was walking by, heard it all and laughed at her. "You have to admit the dwarf has a point."

"Fuck you."

"Said Sister Christian?"

They were cheerleaders. They took a silent, scary walk down the hall of their middle school. The other kids cleared for them. Santana smiled and thought of the future. High school would be a slide on ice for them.

She couldn't wait to talk to Brittany because the girl was so right. Quinn was in love with Frodo. Poor soul. Or souls. She actually didn't know who to feel sorrier for.

* * *

**Age 12 Valentine's Day**

Rachel was stunned to receive four Valentine's cards, all slipped into her locker and unsigned. She always received exactly three. She was almost certain the cute pink card signed in pencil with a happy face and two exclamation marks was from Matt. She only thought this because Matt looked at her anxiously every Valentine's day. She couldn't imagine anyone else in her class would draw a happy face for her, even anonymously. Brittany's card always managed to have a duck on it and was signed 'Me'.

The last wasn't all that anonymous. She always got one sort of sweet card signed with a Star of David. She never acknowledged the cards verbally but she always pushed anonymous Valentines into Matt, Brittany's and Noah's lockers signed with a gold star sticker every year even though they didn't ever really talk to each other. They seemed to like her silently and that was better than nothing. She understood this year had to be the last because they were getting too old for it.

The odd one was a homemade card that opened to a rather disturbingly garish photo of a real human heart in a medical tray. It read 'Heart for your heart? Happy V-Day, Berry.'

Rachel sighed.

Quinn.

It had to be. Santana would never bother to make the effort to be this mean privately. It had to be someone really invested in her. Quinn was. Rachel had been in therapy for six weeks and maybe that's what made her bold enough to whip out a pink pen and write under her message. 'Happy Valentine's Day and XO to you too, Quinn. You know what a real human heart looks like! Who knew?'

She put two gold star stickers on it, put it back in its envelope and shoved it into Quinn's locker.

When she encountered Quinn next, the look in the girl's eyes told her it was now going to be Armageddon. Except forever.

It was torrential and exponentially bad. Even Tina, Kurt and Mercedes felt the repercussions so much that they began to actually talk to her when no one was looking. Which was nice but Rachel wasn't so grateful that she didn't understand they only talked to her because they were all soldiers trapped in a trench under enemy fire. It didn't mean they really cared. At twelve, Rachel knew nobody really cared.

* * *

**Age 12 Gym Class**

Rachel hated gym because it was only a way to show her how inept she was at team sports. She thought she might have been okay at them or maybe worked up to okay if anyone had ever wanted her on their team. As it was, she was always last person chosen and she was much too anxious not to offend a classmate by getting anywhere near her to focus on the game.

She went through the humiliating machinations of going into a bathroom stall to change by herself to participate. It was so bad sometimes she wished she could just die. She'd made conscious decision not to die because she was in therapy and this was obviously preparation for the adversity she'd go through in her quest for a successful Broadway career.

She hoped.

Everything in gym was spiky for her. Always. This day it was literal. Quinn deliberately spiked the volleyball to hit her and she did. Quinn hit her in the mouth and smiled a very beautiful smile as she watched Rachel's lip begin to bleed profusely. The teacher said to go to the school nurse.

Rachel staunched her lip and changed her clothes. She went to the school nurse, then decided to use her get out of jail free card and Dad had messaged he'd pick her up.

As she was walking down the hall, she saw Santana. No one should have been in the hall unless they were skipping class. Santana pointed at her and moved down the hall to Quinn's locker and punched it. Twice. Pointed at her again. And twirled away in her cheer uniform. Rachel had no idea what that meant.

The next day Santana glared at her until lunchtime then tossed Rachel an orange, which she caught. She glared again which Rachel imagined meant 'don't get used to it.'

Later, Brittany gave Rachel's head a gentle pat and then a gentle tug of her hair for only a couple of seconds as she passed down the hall. She didn't say a word.

Those things were worth a bloody lip. It was the first time classmates had ever given her anything in front of other people or intentionally touched her except to hit her with a volleyball. Two people she thought hated her had thought about her for 24 hours.

Rachel didn't necessarily want to think about how sad it was that it made her happy. Best day of school ever.

It was business as usual the next day for the next four years.

* * *

**Age 25**

Sex was the best thing ever, a naked Quinn thought as she pulled a naked Rachel on top of her.

Rachel's heart was going a mile a minute and Quinn loved feeling it on her chest.

The smaller woman huffed, "I'm sorry I'm not glowing like a lady. I'm sweating."

Quinn tousled Rachel's hair. "Sweating's a compliment, angel."

Rachel bonked her head on Quinn's chest, then nestled into it. "Whatever. You just think you're cool because you made me sweat."

Quinn smiled. "I'm not cool. I'm sweating too. You're just that hot."

"No, _we're_ hot. I think that was the most excellent orgasm ever."

Quinn ran one hand through Rachel's sweaty hair again. "Excellent orgasm. Nice to know. But that sounds like a restaurant."

Rachel kicked her foot in the bed. "A restaurant named Excellent Orgasm?"

"I'd eat there."

"Don't be vulgar—and that's not how we got there tonight."

"Not being vulgar but I could get you there that way in about…"

"One minute and 37 seconds. I know. You've timed me and I hate you for that."

"You don't hate me. But you're sleepy now."

"No I'm not."

"Sleepy. You're getting very sleepy…" Quinn rubbed gentle circles on Rachel's naked, sleepy and sweaty back.

"Stop making me sleepy."

"Nope. Not happening."

A whispered…"You're…fun but…not…fair. I'm squishing you."

"Please. I'm a cheerleader. I had girls heavier than you on top of me for twelve years."

"Naked?"

"Granted. One naked non-cheerleader for almost ten years who needs to go to sleep now."

Rachel whispered, "You need your measly orgasm."

"My measly orgasm can wait until you wake up and if that's in thirty minutes or tomorrow morning, I'll be just fine."

Rachel nodded and in less than a minute there was a gentle sound of snoring, which was all the orgasmic reciprocation Quinn needed.

Quinn gently reached out and pulled a sheet over them. She felt, as she always did with Rachel, like she was holding her heart in her arms. She was always nearly frightened knowing that was true. Rachel. Her funny Valentine.

She sang very quietly, "Don't change a hair for me for me. Not if you care for me. Stay…little Valentine…stay. Each day is Valentine's day."

**A/N Flotsam and jetsam? Naval terms. Flotsam—floating wreckage of a ship/cargo. Jetsam—part of a ship/cargo purposefully thrown over—cast aside—to lighten a ship's load in times of distress. If you don't know the song My Funny Valentine, you should. My favorite rendition of it is Chet Baker's. Youtube watch?v=jvXywhJpOKs**


	88. Chapter 88

**A/N Disclaimers from chapter 1 apply.**

**Age 42 Kids 16**

* * *

It was the worst idea ever, maybe, Little Noah thought. Antonia, Astrid and Andor coming to dinner at their house. He wanted to die. So far, they'd gone to the other kids' houses. Their moms were excited to meet their friendly/probably girlfriends/boyfriend and that meant Rachel would be super weird and Quinn would be glacial and Santana would be her and no one would understand Brittany and that might end up in a fist fight. Well, not really, but awkward with a CAP-A.

They almost never brought friends home because it was weird. The whole four mothers thing. The famous mothers thing.

They surprised him.

They greeted their guests like real people. Quinn said, "I'm Quinn and this is Rachel. Don't be nervous because you've seen us. You've seen us but don't know us and we don't know you. We're meeting each other exactly now. This is Santana and the tallest one of us is Brittany. You can call us by first names If you want. We're delighted to meet you and we're sorry we're famous and it's weird there are four of us but hello."

L wanted to kiss MQ because she was nervous.

The three visiting children were actually trembling because these were uber-famous people. Santana saw it and smiled. "Dudes, we're the lamest humans on planet Earth. Don't think about the whole movies and songs and Oscars and Grammys and Emmys and Tony shit—sorry for cursing but just don't. If you're scared of us the whole night, your alimentary canals will back up on you. No lie."

Antonia smiled at Santana. "I wish I were gay and older right now."

Santana gaped but Brittany laughed. "She wishes you were legal right now."

Little Noah made a time-out sign and said, "Okay. Fact check? That's just _wrong._ And inappropriate, _mami_! "

Antonia chuckled and put her arm around his waist. "No. _I_ was inappropriate because I'm nervous. You know that about me. Your_ mami_ didn't say one word and I was kidding, Noah. Your mom was kidding me right back and it was funny because I know she didn't mean it. I came to dinner to meet your family but I really just wanted to be with you and only you, sweetheart."

L was already wildly mortified but he smiled at this. "Sweetheart? Dude. Seriously?"

Astrid put a hand on L's shoulder. "Don't make fun, sweetheart."

L had no defense. He was her sweetheart. He carried her books and walked her to every class. Antonia had made an enormously positive influence on Astrid's fashion but she'd kept her horrible glasses. She thought they gave her dignity and character. They were horrible but who was L to say differently? Why would he when she was so pretty?

Andor was delighted by the look on L's face. He loved how much L loved his sister. He was so kind. He wanted to be the same kind of boy so he smiled and unashamedly wrapped his arm around Berry's shoulder. She smiled up at him. Berry always wanted words, talking and spelling things out. She looked at him and he squeezed her shoulder. She smiled and he was happy. He would say anything for her but he was happy she was learning that love could be expressed by a touch or a look.

He was beginning to learn that love sometimes had to be expressed in words for some people. It was hard. He was Norwegian. A cold and forbidding place. Cold and forbidding with words. He'd asked Berry to watch Norwegian films with him and she had but she'd sighed a lot during them. "They don't say very much, Andor.

"No. They don't."

Long minutes passed.

"For example, that man is in love with that woman and he never says anything to her. Ever. At all."

"He is and he doesn't. But watch how he looks at her."

She did.

Berry took his hand and held it. "Look at me, please."

Andor did. He looked at her as if she were the one reason he had to live in his life.

Berry sighed as she gripped his hand. "Really?"

He was so frightened by her always and he was shaking but he kissed her for the first time, very, very gently and said, "Really."

She kissed him again but harder after saying, "Words might be stupid but you'll have to use them occasionally, Andor. I'm wordy. It's something you'll have to accept if you're my man."

He'd never been called a man in his life so he kissed her again and so fiercely she made a little sound he really, really liked. As he pulled away, she smiled at him. He knew a man should feel something like sexy and maybe he felt like that but mostly he was enchanted.

* * *

Eating food together was weird. Too many girls.

L and Noah jumped to seat Rachel in her chair, then Berry, Antonia and Astrid.

Astrid halted a little before saying, "You have impeccable manners."

L smiled at her. "Shout out for knowing the word impeccable. Rachel's always first, then Berry. Then other girls if we have them. Quinn, Brittany, Santana and Girl Sam seat themselves or we get hurt. Sorry but true."

Antonia jabbed her fork in the air, "That's sorta hot. Guys having manners are hot."

Astrid agreed in her mind and asked, "Is this a Brussels Sprout? I've never eaten one."

Brittany shook her head. "No way! Seriously? They're like little baby cabbages. It's totally almost unfair to even eat them. We braised them in butter and balsamic vinegar, garlic, onions, rosemary and oregano. Eat one and learn to live!"

Astrid did and smiled her delight. "I think that's all I want to eat forever."

Rachel grinned, "Good for you! Vegetables make the world go 'round."

Andor asked, "You don't eat them, Ms. Rachel?"

"I don't because of the butter. I'm vegan. Quinn's vegan. Everyone else in the house is vegetarian. It's not a big deal for us. We eat other food."

"Is it okay, then, to enjoy this food in your presence?'

Rachel gave him her show smile. "Not only okay but required."

Noah groaned and said, "MR, let a brother eat and stop with the whole show smile thing."

Santana tapped her plate loudly with her fork twice and her look said everything Noah needed to know. It was on.

Noah immediately said, "I'm sorry, MR. That was rude. I apologize. I'm a little nervous, maybe."

Rachel reached over the table and squeezed Noah's hand. She smiled at their guests, "No problem. I'm the embarrassing one in the family, ladies and gentleman. I'm nervous to meet you all, too, so I'll show you the difference Noah's talking about."

She smiled a regular smile. "That's real me." She beamed at them. "That's show smile me and that's what Noah was saying. It's embarrassing for children to have a mother like me."

Antonia smiled brightly. At Noah and Rachel. "Excuse me? You're Ms. EGOT and that's maybe the best thing I've ever seen ever in my life. Would you mind doing it again?"

L and Berry and Noah nearly laughed but didn't. Their mother Rachel was trying. They all knew it and felt for her but she was always focus-pulling and couldn't help herself plus she was really so cute none of them knew what to do sometimes.

Rachel didn't flinch.

"Regular smile!" She smiled.

"Show smile." Pow!

Antonia laughed out loud. "Jesus on a cracker with cheese! It's like you're 2-D and then whoa! 3-D!"

Rachel smiled. "Thank you, Antonia! That's the affect I worked to create and quite seriously, I began practicing it when I was four."

Santana shook her head. "See? She's not even kidding, Antonia. We're 42 years old and she's been doing that shit with all of us since we were all six years old. Seriously. Every single damned day. And don't think I'm apologizing for cursing. You kids curse and I know it. I gets to say what I wants."

Noah nearly put his head in his plate because Santana always could and would say anything she wanted. She didn't necessarily embarrass him because she was a lot like their dad. Rachel made him feel embarrassed and grumpy sometimes but he did actually worship her. She _was _sort of 3-D or maybe 4-D really. He looked into her tiny, lovely, hopeful face and could only say, "Okay. MR for the win! We can't leave it at just a smile. Let's go, MR. Stand up and do the over the left shoulder show smile."

Rachel frowned for a second but Little Noah stood up and she stood up and did her patented over the left shoulder show smile.

She was tiny but suddenly six feet tall. Her entire family burst into laughter. They clapped and the other kids joined them.

Antonia said, "You've got to be kidding!"

Noah rushed around the table and towered over Rachel as he hugged her. She squealed as he pulled her up into his arms and spun her around, saying, "I love you! I love you! I love you!"

Rachel giggled as her son placed her back in her chair and said "I love you so much more than you could ever love me, MR."

It was completely sincere and he was sixteen and a very young man not in the least bit embarrassed to say he loved his mother. Which was a little intoxicating for Rachel.

She beamed at him, kissed his cheek, and said "That's impossible."

"Imp."

"Imp right back."

Rachel knew the reason she had children.

Imps. They had imps. Impossibles.

Noah could dance but he wasn't a dancer. He could sing but he wasn't a singer. He played music and football and he loved his family.

Quinn, Santana and Brittany smiled. L and Berry watched and smiled. All of them were happy. Noah wasn't a star like they were but he was the light of all of their eyes and he was perfect and he was growing up. Getting bigger and brighter every day.

Antonia was bewildered and delighted. This huge, dumb, smart gorgeous teenage boy cared enough about his tiny little mom to love her up in a way big way in front of her and everybody.

Her own mom had told her to always watch how any boy treated his mom and then just know something. Antonia couldn't exactly say how to treat four moms. But this was close enough.

Antonia's sole reaction was that she was going to marry Noah Pierce Lopez one day, come hell or high water.

* * *

Dinner was over.

"Ice cream or tofutti and a movie?"

Andor said "Tofutti" as he gently squeezed Berry's hand and smiled.

Antonia said, "Ice cream if you don't mind." Noah smiled and said, "Me too."

Astrid put her hand on L's back and scratched it. He was itching exactly there and she somehow knew it. He loved that. She always scratched him perfectly and he was falling in love with her stupid glasses. She said, "We'll both have Tofutti. Right, L?"

"You're left-handed and that's a little wrong but you're right."

She grinned at him.

* * *

They all ate popcorn and watched a zombie movie. Being famous wasn't all that different after all. Quinn blocked Rachel's eyes. Santana blocked Brittany's eyes. Andor blocked Berry's eyes. Antonia was happy to hold Noah's hand. They weren't scared and they liked the fact the others were. Family night was rad.

* * *

**Age 29**

**The Joe Rocket Show!**

Rachel kissed a sleeping Quinn on the forehead and quietly showered and dressed. She was doing press for her new album and radio was part of it. Santana and Brittany had the kids, so they were asleep. They always did one night on, one night off. They weren't quite sure how just two parents or one ever managed.

She'd gotten into the car and was nearly at the radio station when Santana called.

"Bish, what in the fuck do you think you're doin'?"

"Ah. My morning shot of profanity. Explain?"

"Just read your sched. Joe Rocket?"

"Yes. He's giving me 22 minutes instead of the usual five—that's why Chloe booked me."

"First thing? Killing Chloe."

Chloe was Rachel's publicist's intern.

"Homicide is beneath you, Santana. What's wrong?"

"He's a shock jock, Rach. He'll talk to you about the album for three minutes tops and then he'll talk about sex."

"What?!"

"Yeah. Sex. And you're Ms. Overshare. Quinn will die or kill him."

"I won't talk about sex with him. I don't even know him."

"22 minutes, baby. That's like dog years. Promise. 19 about sex."

A long, long silence.

"What can I say?"

"Who knows? If Quinn wouldn't say it—out loud and proud? Don't."

A long, long silence.

"I'm toast, right?"

"Totally. Just think twice about every syllable, LD."

"Why me?"

"You're cute and, yeah, you know for sure Quinn's getting up to hear you live on the radio—it's like Donna Summer. Ohh—ohh—oh—ohh—on the radio!"

"I love you but I hate you."

"My work here is done. Do not overshare, Rachel Berry. I can hear her—Britts is making oatmeal with berries in honor of you and Quinn's up. We're tuning in."

"Again? I hate you so much."

"Hate you right back, baby girl. Do not overshare. Your children are listening!"

Rachel flailed with one arm. "No! No children! They can't listen! Wait-a-second—they're three. Shut the fuck up!"

Santana cackled, "Not so much. Make it PG, LD."

There was no prep. No greeting off the air. Rachel basically had to plop in a chair in front of a mic across from a handsome guy with blond hair.

"Okay! Joe with a Rocket in my pocket here and I have a Broadway babe and hot stuff to boot in my studio!"

Rachel grimaced but said, "Hello Joe. Nice to meet you."

Joe smiled at her and said, "I like knowing meat's nice for a guest."

"Sorry but I'm a vegan. Let's keep this about my CD."

"Of course. Vegan for you. Meat for our listeners. We're talking about your new CD co-written by your partner Santana Lopez."

"Absolutely. She was nice enough to write songs for me and I'm over the moon with the results."

"Over the moon. Did you help her out on the flip side?"

It was less than three minutes. Rachel couldn't believe this but was glad Santana had given her a heads up.

"San wrote me some songs. I help her out with our children's dinner on the flip-side."

Joe semi-smiled at her. "Are you sayin' you didn't help her out with a little somethin' somethin' else?"

Rachel spoke very succinctly into her microphone. "Joe is implying that I'd have to give sexual favors to Santana Lopez for music. If he wanted to be hurt, that's nearly exactly the best thing he could imply. Santana writes for me because she loves me, Joe. You're not getting our whole partner thing. It's simple. We're BFFs except literally. I have two friends who love me and chose to share their lives with me and with Quinn.

That said, I'm married and completely monogamous. I'm about to be the most boring guest you could ever have. I don't listen to radio so I didn't know this show's format. You can talk to me about me or about my CD but I've been happily married for ten years. I've never been intimate with anyone but my spouse. So sex talk with me will be a little boring."

"Are you saying your sex life is boring?"

"Are you kidding me? You've seen my wife, right? It's fantastic. I'm saying I won't talk about it because marital intimacy isn't something you need to talk about to a third party unless you're sexually unhappy, a polygamist or a moron. I'm not any of those things. I have a happy, healthy, even robust loving relationship with my spouse. I don't see a ring on your hand so don't talk to me about sex. I'm not a child but you sound like one. I'm married. I won't talk about the most beautiful and private part of my life and pretend like it's something stupid. If you or your other guests have had lots and lots of meaningless sex, we can talk about that. Sorry but I've never had it—ever—but feel free to school me on the whole stupid and meaningless sex thing."

Oh ho. Santana, Brittany and Quinn were listening and this was so not Rachel and nearly about Mercedes that it made them proud. They all bonked their morning juice glasses together.

Joe smiled, really smiled at Rachel and said, "Okay. Fine. How about some girl relationship advice?"

Rachel smiled right back. Genuinely. "Fine. I'm a girl. Hit me."

"This is all hypothetical. This guy might be dating this girl and it's beginning to feel sort of serious. This guy doesn't know what he should think about it."

Rachel took two seconds to take her defensiveness off the table and this Joe person actually did have, despite his bluster, unexpectedly kind and warm blue eyes.

"Okay. First thing, Joe. Does this girl make this guy laugh?"

"Totally. All the time."

"Good. Does she do stuff with this guy this guy's pretty sure she hates and smiles doing it?"

"All the time. She watches ballgames with a team jersey on and fishes with this guy and camps and stuff. She mostly hates baseball and fishing and camping but she does it smiling. And drinks beer, too. She likes wine."

"Seriously?"

"Word."

"Perfect. Okay. Does this guy do stuff he hates right back and smiles and says he had a good time?"

"This guy has gone to wine tastings with this girl. He's gone on meditation retreats and yoga weekends for this girl. He's had mani-pedis with this girl. Did I mention this poor SOB's a GUY? It was brutal but this guy smiled the whole time and all of them might have been a little bit fun because she was there but he'd never say that."

"Do they both understand they're lying and kiss it out?"

"I think, pretty much. Always."

"Okay. Does this guy talk about serious stuff he can't believe and never thought he'd talk about with some girl?"

"Constantly. It's like word vomit and he almost wants to die because she's so pretty and smart he can't believe she's listening to him."

"Does this girl make this guy feel like he's walking on air when she even just breathes around him? And maybe sex is just almost a fun afterthought because he just loves having her in his life?"

"Maybe. I mean, this girl is sexalicious. Can't lie about that. But sort of yeah. This guy? Yeah. A lot of the time."

"For how long?"

"Two years."

"Two_ years_? Does this guy want to hold her and talk to her and play with her every day maybe forever?"

"Obviously. Sorta? Maybe?"

"Dude. Really? You're worse than my Noah Sr. and that's saying something. What's her name?"

"Amy."

"Number."

He wrote it on a slip of paper and she dialed it. They were still completely live.

She put her phone on speaker before she dialed. "Hi, Amy. I'm Rachel Berry. I'm on Joe's show and I don't even know why. I totally think he wants to marry you and he's too stupid to say so. I just met him and know for sure it's possible he's just that dumb. Please say you'll marry him and take him out of the man-pool for me. Someone has to and I think you're just the girl for him. I promise I have a 100% acceptance rate for marital bliss."

Rachel looked at Joe, who actually was really handsome and not dumb at all and he said 'yes' as Amy said "Yes!"

Joe barked out, "Baby! Really? You'll marry me?"

Amy said, "Really."

"Boss! No way! I'll get you a ring!"

"You'd better, buster. Thank you, Rachel! Men bring the stupid sometimes."

"Yes they do. But I love them. And just because of Joe, I'm keeping myself on my team, so thank you right back!"

Amy said, "BURN!"

Joe smiled. Commercial break. Radio silence and Joe knelt before Rachel. "I'm getting married! Isn't that crazy?"

He looked like a little boy. She smiled at him. "Get on your knee for your woman. And no. It's a little crazy feeling right now but I promise it's the best thing you'll ever do."

"Really?"

"Totally. That ring will change you and it should if you look at it and remain consistently surprised someone loves you. It's a choice, Joe. Make your life and wife a continual decision. Every minute, every day. Sex is phenomenal. But marriage is better. Promise."

"And you didn't even talk sex on my show!"

"We talked love, bro. I'll come back if you want. I'm not interesting but still."

"You're a little interesting. Bring your hot _chicas_ next time."

"Are you saying I'm not hot?"

"I'm thinking I'll get shot if I say so and, dude, I'm somebody's fiancé."

"Right? Okay. Quinn never because it wouldn't be pretty. Santana would murder you. Brittany would leave you alive but cripple you."

"O…kay. Looking forward to meeting _you _again then."

He kissed her cheek and smiled.

She smiled. She liked him.

Joe's producer, on the other hand, looked like she'd swallowed an ostrich egg. Her name was Frances and she said, as Rachel left, "He'll be a fantastic husband. I'm straight but I'm a little in love with Amy. If he says anything about sex or his rocket, her hand goes up. She doesn't put up with his bullshit. She's perfect for him."

Rachel smiled and whispered, "He's not that bad."

Frances smiled, "No. But yes. Three years ago, I realized I had about zero tolerance for penis jokes. I love him as a colleague but still...

"Got it. Just know if he and my baby daddy got together, the world would implode. And I love my baby daddy."

Frances smiled. "You're welcome anytime. You don't need a reason. Joe behaves himself when he has someone worth behaving himself for."

* * *

**RachelBarbraBerry**: I like getting people married—all all before 11AM people!

**Amysdone: RachelBarbraBerry:** Thank you! I thought he'd never ask!

**Joe Rocket:Amysdone**: You kept being so smart and so pretty. Not fair!

**Amysdone: Joe Rocket.** You kept being so dumb and handsome. And fun and funny. Not fair

**RachelBarbraBerry:** Love yourself enough to love someone else! S/he might be trying to love you right back! I'm all married up with Q. Why aren't you? I mean not with Q. She's mine!


	89. Chapter 89

**Chapter One Disclaimers Apply. Remember this story ended a long ago time ago in a galaxy far, far away. If you want to read it, I'm happy you do. I'm grateful for you, quite sincerely.**

* * *

**Senior Year, Lunch Time**

"If Mr. Schue doesn't start working us through a Nationals set list this week, I will officially lose my mind!"

Santana looked at Rachel and tilted her head.

"I saw that, Santana."

"I meant for you to, hobbs."

Quinn sighed and patted her girlfriend's back, "I'm sure he'll start next week, angel."

Even Brittany looked dubious and said, "I know his real name's Mr. Schue but it's really more like Mr. Last Minute."

"See?! Thank you, Brittany! Exactly."

Sometimes when the four of them got started, their friends just let them go and didn't add a thing. Mercedes, Kurt, Mike and Tina were sitting at a table with them in the cafeteria.

Rachel pointed a fingerling carrot at Mercedes, "The importance of this cannot be dismissed! We need the requisite amount of time to argue about who's going to have the solo or have I been hallucinating through my whole existence in Glee?"

She immediately double pointed her carrot, "Do not answer that, Mercedes Jones!" She lowered her voice and her shoulders, leaned in as if to announce a dread secret and hissed, "And we need time to teach Finn the choreography for the group number!"

All of them sort of winced at the complete truth of that.

Kurt cleared his throat and said, "You're both amazing co-captains but if you introduce the idea yourselves, your history of bickering about solos might make Mr. Schue…maybe…perhaps…a little gun-shy, so to speak."

Mercedes cut a glance at him and said, "Bickering? Who's zoomin' who?"

Kurt nodded. "I was about to say, Mercedes, perhaps we need someone who isn't necessarily a diva to lead the way."

Brittany nodded at him and said, "You and Mercedes and Rach can't do it, then. Me and Mike aren't divas but he doesn't talk. Quinn's not a diva except she's Quinn and that's scary enough and San's sort of a diva but wouldn't be nice. Tina's totally a diva singing but not in real life. I'll make Mr. Schue let us start if you want me to. Simple. And where is Puck, Rach?"

"He's having a cavity filled at his dentist's but will be back for fourth period and Glee."

Santana stabbed at her salad, smirked and said, "Please tell me you two have matching kitten calendars."

"I refuse to dignify that with a response."

Quinn lifted one eyebrow at Santana and the girl said, "Right. Sorry, Cap."

* * *

**Glee!**

* * *

Will was either early or nearly always five minutes late everyone knew had something to do with Ms. Pills. He rushed into the room. "Okay guys! I had an amazing brain wave at lunch about a great new assignment this week!"

Brittany immediately lifted her hand and said, in the most monotone way she could muster, which was considerable, "I'm sorry, Mr. Schue, but I had a brain wave at lunch about Glee too and I almost never get them if you know what I mean and I think you do. Could you please, please let me tell you my idea first?"

Santana gaped because Brittany had actually said that while batting her eyelashes. She was totally playing the Brittany card.

Will sort of half-smiled. The whole club was staring at him. Fixedly. Especially Santana. He didn't know what might come out of Brittany's mouth next or what he could do to say no to whatever did. He winced and said, "Yes. Of course, Brittany."

Brittany's voice was as flat as a board. "I totally thought it would be super exciting to start working on our set list for Nationals, Mr. Schue. I mean, we have to choose the songs and that takes a lot of time because we all have good ideas and it takes a lot of time for me and Mike to make up the choreography and for some of us to learn it. My whole brain wave was that just doing this all together super early and working through the dancing and song choice stuff would make us a better team and stuff. We could totally do our best and maybe even if we don't win, we'll have fun expressing ourselves as a team. I mean, that _is_ what Glee's really about, right?"

She batted her eyelashes at him again and he paused but accepted it. "Brittany's right! Let's get to work on the set list. Everyone! Ideas!"

Brittany looked at Santana, who was drinking from a bottle of water and whispered, "It's totes true in a way but he seriously bought ME saying that crap?"

Santana choked so hard on her water Rachel and Quinn had to pound her on the back. Nationals!

* * *

**One Week Later**

Rachel had wanted to start early months ago. One week in, she felt exhausted. Someone. Anyone. It was stupid, really. She, Mercedes, Kurt and Tina were the real singers. What could win for them? She wanted a win.

Rachel finally announced an idea she and Deryk had been milling over for weeks at their next gathering. "I think Mercedes for solo. You Lie by Reba McEntire."

Mercedes did an actual double-take. "The hell? That country bitc—person?"

"Have you heard the song?"

"Hell to the no! I don't listen to that stuff."

"It's a diva song and you could put your own flavor on. The judges won't know what hit them. Nobody goes to country for their choice in show choir. Why not?"

She put her iPod in their docking station on Tim's snare drum and played it. Mercedes frowned at the country sound but sort of had to give it up for Reba's pipes. The other kids liked it a lot.

Mercedes allowed, "Okay, that white girl _can _sing but I'd sound crazy and just wrong singing that."

Rachel nodded, "That's why Deryk and I worked on a different arrangement of it for you."

Deryk started his sequencing and the feel of the music was completely different. It was soulful, bass driven and sounded really sad but sadly sexy. Rachel sang it completely differently for the arrangement and crushed it into the ground. When the last soaring high note was over, she shrugged and said, "I think you can do it better than that, Mercedes, but just sayin'."

Mercedes was overwhelmed. Rachel, as always, had worked overtime on something for the club. This time Rachel had worked to give_ her _the solo at Senior Nationals. She couldn't believe it and yet she could. Of course, the tiny girl had needed to have her diva moment and show errybody she was probably just a little better than anybody but Mercedes understood that. That was natural.

Mercedes felt tears welling in her eyes. She nodded at Rachel and said, "Thank you. You have lyric sheets?"

Rachel show-smiled at her, "Lyrics and music. Deryk and I will be happy to help work with you after Glee. What do you think, Mr. Schue?"

He beamed at them. A bold, strange choice and they were team-building even with the band. Rachel had helped arrange a solo for Mercedes. He looked at her happy, smiling face and thought, not for the first time, that she was growing up in Glee faster than he had.

He said, "I think we have our solo!"

Duet. Harder. Mercedes finally just said, "For Good. Kurt and Rachel. Sorry T but we have to show our show-tune chops. They're bombastic on that song." Rachel smiled and said, "Tina could do it just as well."

Tina got up, skipped a step down and surprised Rachel with a kiss on the cheek. "No. I couldn't. And I don't mind. Good choice."

Brittany chose Earth Wind and Fire's version of Got to Get You Into My Life for the group number. "It's the Beatles with soul and we're already doing Reba with soul. I think it matches."

They listened to it and were immediately stoked.

It was fun to do. Choreography for Mike and Britt was a blast. They decided just loving each other up in exuberant dance was the happiest thing they'd get to do on this last try together. Simple and fun. They all sang the intro together, snapping their fingers together like they were on a street corner. Then they exploded and began to scat together, pumping their fists before locking a line flanking Artie, who was their only soloist in the midst of them.

The guys sang with him for most of the verses and girls all switched verses into their natural lower and higher vocals but met at the end. They sang and moved together and it looked like they were having the time of their lives. During the short bridge, Brittany and Mike threw in some dance pyro. They all looked so good, sounded so absolutely and effortlessly fantastic, carefree and happy that when Will saw the final practice rendition and saw them singing, dancing and clapping together at the end he began to cry.

That. _That _was Glee club for him.

* * *

It was Chicago.

Vocal Adrenaline. Rachel called Shelby about Beth before Quinn said a word. Beth was going to be staying with her aunt again.

Now that they were all truly open about their relationships, Ms. Pillsbury had had her own brain wave and had come to Glee and explained to everyone that although it was, obviously, inappropriate to let girls sleep in the same room as boys, girls who were in relationships shouldn't sleep in the same bedrooms, either. Gay children didn't get a pass. That wasn't PC. When Will rubber-stamped this, Rachel rolled her eyes and said, "Okay! We get a pick mix of Tina, Lauren, Mercedes, Kurt and me. I can't imagine Quinn or Santana with Lauren without bloodshed. I'm, as kids say, just sayin'."

Santana offered dryly, "You ruin your teen-speak when you preface it, hobbs."

"Thank you, Santana. While I'm amenable to any of you ladies as a bedmate and I mean that in the sleeping sense only, Quinn, I'm fully aware it wouldn't be optimal for a number of you. I think Kurt and Tina could tolerate me best, but I'll take Lauren because I think we'd be alive at the end of the night. I'm very tiny and can keep to my side of a bed."

Quinn snorted because Rachel was NEVER sleeping with Lauren Zizes on her watch. "She can not, Zizes. She snores and she'll be all over you."

"Quinn! I do not snore!"

Lauren said, "Jesus! Or Yahweh, I guess, 'cause you're a Jew. Just no! A whole night with a cuddly snoring dwarf?"

At Rachel's outraged expression, Kurt said, "You do snore and cuddle. Big spoon here a few times, remember? Are you saying I'm not a man?"

Rachel gave him a thunderous look but said to, "Lauren. You're being unruly but I'd need to use my digital ear thermometer I carry to all events for evidence of fever if you weren't. I do, however, appreciate your glancing recognition of my religion. Kurt. You yourself have aligned yourself on the girl equation of our club on occasion. Although you're definitively a man and a very handsome one?"

She stamped a foot and glowered at him, "I have a good mind to tell your father! Polite gentlemen do not tell tales about a lady they've slept with! My point was I don't believe you're an imminent threat to anyone's vagina!"

Kurt raised a hand and said, "Whoa! Testify! But? As we all know, Rachel, my father has a heart condition so you can never mention my name and threatening a vagina to him in the same sentence. Ever."

Santana barked out a laugh and said. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph—is this happening? And sorry Rach, Puck about the Jesus. Can we all just get real?"

She stood up and said, "Ms. Pillsbury? Mr. Schue? We all handled Cleveland hotel bunking before you got this brain wave. We all for sure get the two double beds in a hotel room thing for a trip on a school budget stuff but I _am_ going to sleep in the same bed as Britts. I've slept with her since we were three years old. Our parents have been totally cool with it the whole time and yeah I'm saying even since we hit puberty and everything that might imply. Got me?"

They just blinked at her as she continued.

"Fair enough, you're both thinking because you're teachers and chaperones and stuff, you have to at least make the appearance you're making sure teen sex doesn't happen on your watch. Fine. I've been sleeping with Brittany for fourteen years. I'll be honest. Like kids and not like kids. Do either of _you_ have fourteen years of experience sleeping with the only person you've ever loved? Don't even answer. I know you don't. I may be a child or act up like a child but I'm no child with Britts. Do you really think after fourteen years sex is the only thing we care about or think about? We'll sleep for one night at some dumb hotel. She'll wear her Daisy Duck onesie and I'll wear my Batman pajamas and even in those clothes, I promise we'll be more abstinent and adult than you probably could be together because news you can use? If you wanna get married tomorrow, know two kids have fourteen years up on you, okay? We've completely earned our closed door policy."

She crossed her arms, "And believe this. Rachel and Quinn have earned it too. They can bunk up in the same room as us in the other bed because if me and Britts even thought about wanting to be…" she made air quotes, "'inappropriate', those two are the ultimate whatever-blockers for us. I can promise you Q would spontaneously combust or literally murder us if she thought we were inappropriate in the same space as Rach or that we might see Rach in some compromising way. That would never happen. If you don't know that for a stone fact, you don't know us like we know us. Then again, you don't have the benefit of having watched the reality TV show called 'Quinn and Rachel' a lot of us have had to sit through in complete stupefaction day after day in school since we were all six years old."

Brittany, Kurt and Mercedes all raised one hand and waved it like they were in church. Artie said, "Preach."

Rachel was blushing as Quinn replied to Santana, "Did you really have to go there?"

"Did I lie?"

"No. But still."

Kurt said, "Ms. Pillsbury? Mr. Schue? Santana is completely right. They'll all sleep like I'll sleep with Mercedes. Like kids in bed. It's not a big deal."

Mercedes cut a glance at him and said. "Whatever side's closest to the bathroom's mine. That's girl rights even at our houses."

Kurt shrugged. "See? I sleep with Mercedes with parental permission all the time."

Tina sighed. "Lauren, that leaves us. I don't care about sides. Eight steps around a bed is not the end of the world."

"Whatever. That's fine. You're not the end of the world, Asian."

Tina looked squarely at Rachel and smiled, "Being told you don't completely suck is high praise when you're defined by your race or ethnicity, right Rachel?"

Rachel show smiled at her. She loved Tina because she was wildly smart and understood. "Yes. It's great. How'd Jew know that?"

Lauren rolled her eyes. "So what? Whatever. I'm fat. Want to make a joke about that?"

"Our point in case you're missing it, Lauren, is that we wouldn't ever say something like that. You're who you are. We don't care."

"Fine. Killing you afterword, midget."

Santana sighed and said, "Step to my dwarf and it'll be on and I know you can mop the floor with me but after me, there's Britts, who can and would knock the lights straight out of your head. For reals. Not. Even. Kidding."

Lauren was actually afraid of Brittany and said, "Why are you making this all emo?"

Brittany shrugged, which was ominous.

Puck launched himself at Lauren, hugged her and said to the club, "Guys! You're only picking on her because she's the hottest _chica _on our team." He kissed her temple.

Quinn smiled. "She really is that. Oddly enough she and Rachel are the only people on this team completely unafraid of themselves. They probably would have been excellent bedmates."

Lauren scowled at her but there was a smile in her eyes.

Puck offered, "It's still a little gay for us guys to sleep together again. Sorry about the gay thing, nearly half the club. I call Artie."

Artie looked at him and said, "I know we're buds but is this because you don't think I could make a move on you? Just because I'm paraplegic I still could, dude."

Puck gaped as Brittany nodded and said, "He so could. Artie's half robot but way totally functional."

Tina lowered her face into her hands and really tried not to silently laugh even as she did.

Puck could only laugh and fire back. "Fine! Neither of us are wired that way, Artie, but I'm no quitter. I call big spoon. I'm no man's little spoon, dawg!"

Artie clapped one hand over his eyes, laughing, raised a fist and Puck bumped it.

This had devolved in a way Will and Emma couldn't have anticipated.

Everyone was laughing as Mike said, "Matt sleeps like a log. I call him." They pounded fists.

Sam said, "I'll sleep on the floor. Finn can have a bed to himself. He's our big guy."

They smiled at each other.

Ms. Pillsbury nodded primly. "Mr. Schuester and I will give further thought to arrangements."

He whispered into Emma's ear as they left the room, "You have to understand kids in show choir are a little_ different_. In a good way."

Room assignments. Brittany, Santana, Quinn and Rachel were sharing a room.

* * *

Rachel was quietly insane on their bus. Santana iPad bowled with her. She thought she could have maybe won but she thought the girl needed a win so she flubbed it. Rachel lifted out of her seat after winning like she was on fire.

Rachel was both tiny and huge in the bus aisle. Santana didn't know if she might not have to tackle her or maybe put a blanket over her head like a horse in a fire the way she was acting.

It wasn't even game day. They weren't even close to their hotel but Rachel announced, "Chi-town, people! We're here to win it and I know it! All of you? I've brought the proper essentials so fear nothing! Fear nothing!"

They all knew she was losing her mind. Rachel.

She continued, "Tomorrow?! Lemon and honey for all of our throats and I've ensured we'll have plenty of hot water! I've pre-prepared it with our venue! I know it's very exciting to be in Chicago and there are a plethora of exciting sights to see, especially architecturally. But if you don't all rest tonight and get ready to sing tomorrow as you should, I'll personally stab you! See? I'm learning from Santana!"

Santana rolled her eyes. Rach with her cray cray on. She shouted, "Or she'll talk to you for two hours instead of stab you. Seriously. Personally, I'd choose the stabbing."

Rachel stamped her foot, "I resent that, Santana!"

At this point the club was really a club of friends and knew none of it meant anything and smiled. It felt a little like warm milk before bedtime.

"C'mere, hobbs. Get back here. I'll beat your ass at bowling this time."

Quinn sighed and rested her head on Brittany as Rachel took her seat beside Santana and said, "Game on!"

Order restored as Rachel won her game, fell asleep and began to snore. Everyone in the bus took video and not one of them posted it anywhere because the Trinity would kill them. They kept it only for proof. The next time she said she didn't snore.

* * *

Nationals Senior Year. Their last big chance. Rachel was so excited before the solo she was seriously making Mercedes wig out.

Rachel saw something was wrong, took her aside and asked, "What's wrong?"

Mercedes shouted, "YOU! _You're_ what's wrong. You're _always _what's wrong! You are freaking me the fuck out. Don't you know that's what you are to me? To Glee? That it's what you always do to all of us?"

Rachel's face dropped and Mercedes saw she'd slapped her really brutally, emotionally.

Rachel raised her eyes sadly and smiled, a look Mercedes knew very well, and replied quietly, "I'd have preferred for you to say you needed me to speak quietly or not at all to you because you're preparing for a performance. That would be something I would have completely understood, respected and adhered to. I'm glad you drank your water with lemon and honey. Break a leg."

Mercedes couldn't believe life would really treat her this way before she was about to go onstage for the most important solo she might ever have. She looked at Rachel's wounded-looking little face absolutely refusing to cry just as she'd seen it ten zillion times in their lives.

Rachel half-smiled at her and seemed to read her thoughts. "See? That's what this song you're going to sing is about. Knowing you're hurting and knowing someone else is hurting, too. Sometimes even though you love each other you can't help each other or reach each other and you hurt each other. I do actually love you, Mercedes, and I always have. Honey and lemon and hot water are good. But now you know you've really hurt my feelings yet again and really badly and although I know you meant it, you'll pretend you didn't and you'll pretend you're sorry. You'll lie. See? You can knock this song out of the park. You lie. The name and meaning of the song are why I chose it. You could sell this in your sleep. You ARE going to win the solo I chose just for you. Enjoy."

Mercedes felt like she'd been punched. She went out and killed it because it was killing her to sing it. The audience went wild and she smiled and bowed but didn't enjoy it.

* * *

Rachel smiled and clapped along with the rest of the club as Mercedes returned to their green room. "Having listened to all the contestants, I'm quite certain we won the solo due to Mercedes' typically sterling performance." She spoke as quietly as they'd ever heard her. "I have complete confidence in our duet performance and our group number. Now for the duet. You should all please relax and don't eat or drink anything but honey and lemon with warm water. No more than six ounces of water. Kurt and I will see you after we crush the competition."

There were no exclamation marks in her voice and she sounded like half the air had been let of her competition balloon. It wasn't their Rachel.

Kurt and Rachel left and Santana immediately rounded on Mercedes. "What the fuck did you say or do to my midget? And don't lie."

Mercedes was lost because she didn't have Kurt to defend her and she'd fucked up again and Rachel had won choosing a song for her and Rachel had said she was a liar so, for once, she answered honestly, "She was being all her and I told her, sort of, she's always what's wrong with me and what's wrong with Glee. It's what she is. She's what's wrong."

Quinn threw her bottle of water at the wall and everyone winced. She then said quietly and evenly, "I'm going to go hear two people sing about being changed for good. Anyone else want to come?"

All of them went to hear Kurt and Rachel. As they watched then singing with and to each other a story remarkably like their own, one by one, each person in the club began to cry. When the their last soaring note was over, the audience rose to their feet. Kurt did the slightest of bows, swept an arm toward Rachel. She took his hand and did a low ballet bow and rose.

After they walked offstage, Rachel ignored the club, kissed Kurt and hugged him tightly. When she released him, she turned to the club and said quietly, "I think it's safe to say we won that round. Group number in approximately thirty. You need to be poised but relaxed. We've got this. I'll see you in twenty-five."

Kurt frowned and tilted his head. "Where are you going?"

She half-smiled at him and said, "I've been informed my boisterous nature is deleterious to other performers as they prepare. Because no one could change my ability to perform even with a baseball bat or a gun, I was unaware. I apologize. I'll return in exactly enough time and I'll be smiling and bringing my A-Game, which is what I expect from all of you. Smiles. A-Game. We're winning this."

She walked away. She didn't diva storm out. She just walked away.

Kurt turned on Mercedes and hissed, "What did you say to her?"

They all knew better than to follow her and Quinn said, "It doesn't matter. It's done. Rachel's right. We need to bring it. We're happy and together and Rachel knows we've all got each others' backs. Right? Just like always." Her voice sounded like acid.

* * *

Rachel paced the floor for twelve minutes. She realized she was pouting and at this point her pouting might actually be upsetting to the club. In fact, she knew it was. She meant for it to be but that it was possible meant they liked her enough to care. That was strange. Of course, historically, all of them deserved feeling badly except for perhaps Sam and Matt. Still. It was unacceptable to act badly only because her feelings were hurt.

She marched back to a very glum green room with a full head of steam and announced. "Listen up Glee club! You are not the people I've worked years with to make champion performers if you think we'll let this minor emotional setback set _us_ back!"

Everyone's shoulders immediately slumped in sheer, profound relief. Their cray cray Rachel was back. Except a Rachel suddenly clambering up on their drink table to say more. Quinn, Brittany and Santana rushed to pluck her off the table as she shrieked, "What are you doing? You can't stop me! I need a platform! Unhand me!"

They gently placed her on the ground and Brittany and Quinn quieted her and petted her furious little head as Santana said, "Look at the table, Rach. That table's probably weight tested for maybe seventy-eighty pounds tops if evenly distributed. You'd be a single point in the middle and you weigh more than it can take. Trust us. We've been trained to see an unsafe base. We're cheerleaders."

Rachel nodded, then looked wildly around the room for a place to speak and Finn said, "Come here." He leaned way down, picked her up very gently and put her on his shoulders and stood.

Now she was nearly nine feet tall. She gently patted his head as if he were her horse and said, "This is an excellent vantage point! Thank you so much, Finn! Glee Club? Minor emotional mishaps will happen with temperamental artists. We must rise above! If you don't like how loud I am, this will be the last time you'll have to deal with it in competition. Think of how happy stilling my voice will make you and rise above! Mercedes has won our solo and Kurt and I have delivered the duet! We will win. Forget your troubles and c'mon get happy!"

She kicked one foot with enthusiasm but Finn had completely anticipated that and held her very firmly. "I'm saying that only because you know I could make Kurt sing it with me to you very loudly."

They just looked at her. Matt said, "You could sing the phone book and we'd listen, Rachel."

Rachel continued to pat Finn's head as she said, "Thank you, Matthew, and I apologize to all of you for my petulance before but I had reason. My feelings were hurt but that's nothing new and I'm also not unaware I'm a bit of a diva."

They all forced themselves not to register any reaction to that surprise of a proclamation.

"So. Let's go to the stage knowing we have struggled to love each other and each of us have worked so hard for our Glee family and for this National competition to come true. I know most of you want to strangle me but you all love me as I do you. It's taking a few of you longer to know that than the rest but we can work with that. Until then we are still Glee Club and I'm still Rachel Barbra Berry, the bane of your existence! Victory!"

Santana couldn't believe how ridiculous it was but shouted, "Victory! So say we all!"

Everyone laughed and shouted. "Victory! So say we all!"

It was ridonkulous, and just like Glee. Santana and Brittany assured Rachel was landed safely on the ground as Finn lowered himself to let her off his shoulders.

Quinn smiled and hugged her when she was finally standing. "You sounded like King Henry the Fifth, sweetie. Sort of."

Rachel snorted then hugged Quinn tighter. "I know you're making fun but I try."

Quinn smiled at the air.

* * *

After a few minutes, they had their three minutes call. Rachel gathered them together with Mr. Schue and said, very quietly. "No reason for nerves about our performance. None. We will win. Go out remembering this is the last time we'll compete as a Glee team and that no song, no matter how epic, means more than what this one says. I had to get you guys into my life. I think all of us needed to get into each others' lives and it's made us all brighter, better and happier people. Let's go out and show everyone how much we rock and how much this club has changed our lives. On the count of three, Mr. Schue!"

They all counted, one hand in each. "One. Two. Three! Mr. Schue!"

* * *

They were giddy. They all felt electric. It was really their last time. They snapped their fingers and sang as they danced through the first long bars. It looked like they were so good they just didn't care. They sang together as they snapped their fingers. It was building and then…

Then they just exploded across the stage and started to scat before the next real verse. Will lifted his hands and stood up and held his head as Artie sang because he was crying. His kids weren't playing. Mike and Brittany had intentionally made all of them look at the beginning of the song like they were just goofing and dancing around because they happened to be singing a song on a corner. But?

They rolled Artie around as he sang and as the girls sang the higher notes. All of them danced what Mike and Brittany had created. As if they'd just suddenly realized they'd met people they had always needed to meet. They were killing it with their voices but the choreography said it all. They could all sing and did but they all danced for each other and were performing for each other. It was nearly embarrassing how good they were. The audience stood up and roared. The judges stood up and clapped.

Will knew for a fact he'd won his first National. Or rather his team had. Rachel pointed at him from the stage, did a tiny curtsey of a bow and winked.

He thought, as he so often did faced with the riddle of Rachel, 'Wow.'

* * *

**A/N Again. No reason to read or reply anymore. I enjoy when you do.**


	90. Chapter 90

**Chapter One Disclaimers Apply. Remember this story ended a long ago time ago in a galaxy far, far away. **

**A/N For anyone who doesn't know this factoid which will be part of this chapter, in 1930 Marlene Dietrich starred in a film (not such a great film but very famous at this point for fashion and gay culture reasons) called **_**Morocco. **_**Look up pictures.**

* * *

**Time Stamp: Senior Prom!**

* * *

Rachel and Quinn were studying in bed and Rachel was, yet again, sighing so loudly that Quinn finally said, "What's wrong, angel?"

Rachel closed her history book quite definitively, "I've been thinking about Senior Prom."

Quinn forced herself not to smile and kept pretending to read her biology book. "What about it?"

"You're not running for Prom Queen."

"Nope. That's so last year or actually year before that."

Long, long pause.

"That said, I was wondering if you were attending and/or had a date?"

Quinn was quietly charmed. Her girl. "Yes and you."

Rachel opened her history book and frowned at it, "It believe it is customary to ask for a date to the prom."

"When it's a foregone conclusion? And why don't you ask?"

Rachel flipped a page. "I believe we have discussed that you are the boy, Quinn. _You _have to ask."

Quinn looked at her, "Rachel Berry, would you do me the profound honor of allowing me to escort you to our Senior Prom?"

"Yes!" Rachel threw her book on the bed and herself onto Quinn, who had to extricate the sharp squareness of her biology book from between them, then hugged Rachel. "You do understand that you just asked me to ask you to the prom, right?"

Rachel buried her face in Quinn's neck and said, "Shhh. Don't be logical."

Quinn smiled at the ceiling.

* * *

**Two days later**

"When are we going dress shopping?"

"For _your _dress? Today."

Rachel lowered her brow. "Why not your dress?"

"I like the big reveal."

"You hate the big reveal."

"Bingo is your name-o. Who cares what I wear?"

"Me."

"Maybe I despise shopping for clothes with other people. Maybe I'd like it to be a surprise. Just like I want your dress to be so that's why you're shopping with Britts and San. Not me. They're going shopping today for their dresses so you'll get your dress and you'll tell me what color it is so I can coordinate and pick your corsage."

"I have no idea why you're making this so difficult!"

"Trying on dresses and looking at yourself in a mirror and making other people look at you is hard? For you?"

Rachel stamped one foot.

* * *

At nearly the same time in their home, Finn asked his sort-of brother, "Dude, would you come with me to pick out a suit for the prom? I know you know more about it than me."

Kurt smiled, "Of course."

Finn paused and said, "Are you going with anyone?"

"I am but we're not going _together _together. Sort of more like we show up and hang out like we're not together."

Finn wasn't always up to speed but he sometimes was. "David?"

"Yes."

"That sucks. I'm sorry you can't go together."

"Me too but his dad might find out. He'll knows it's prom night. We'll take separate cars."

Finn sighed and said, "Fine. Even so. If he treats you badly, I will hurt him. Is he at least going to meet you to eat and bring whatever gay guy thing gay guys bring to put on you on prom night? Because he'd better and even if he does, I'll still keep my eye on him."

Kurt just looked at Finn. The boy was tall enough already but he _was_ growing. "Duly noted and thanks, big bro. He's coming to pick me up, in a way. We're just taking separate cars. We _are _going to dine and the gay guy thing is called a boutonniere and it's not gay. You're wearing one because we're going hot retro tux for you. Jessica won't know what hit her.

* * *

"Just go with me and you can choose the restaurant. Doesn't have to be Breadstix. I won't expect anything after, I promise. Unless you wanna and that's the least a guy could do, right?"

Lauren stared at Puck and said, "Is this your version of a pity date?"

He stared right back. "Am I the brain-trust guy you think could think up a pity date?"

"Okay, point taken, but that was actually sort of smart."

"I have my ways, Zizes."

"Yes. You do."

Puck smiled and Lauren felt, as she always did, charmed by how beautiful and truly wistful he was. She said, "I'll go. But I expect a real suit or a tux and a corsage from you, buddy."

He shrugged. "Dude? Sorry. Girl-dude? You get your date a corsage. I know that."

"I'll tell you what color when I get my dress."

"Oh fuck. Me and flowers. I need to call Kurt, right?"

"Hello?"

* * *

Tina happily accepted a date with Mike and said, "I can't wait! I'm calling Mercedes. We can shop for our dresses together!"

He was delighted she was so happy because he was, too, but was horrified when she said, "I'll tell you my color for the corsage and we can coordinate our accessories!" He kept faux-smiling as he thought _what accessories? _and then speed-dialed Kurt.

* * *

Matt asked Mercedes a little late in the game for her but she said yes. He'd gone stag to the Junior prom so he speed-dialed Kurt about this whole dress color/corsage thing.

* * *

Artie rolled up to Sam and they ate their lunches in silence. Artie finally said, "Dude, I don't want to ask freshman or sophomore girls to the prom. You?"

"No dude. It's like asking a bunny rabbit and I'm not trying to be mean but I don't want to feed a bunny carrots all night."

Artie nodded his agreement, already in a flop sweat because this was way worse than asking a girl. "So like, if you're going stag, could we sorta pull the handicap card and go together? You know how to do my transfers and stuff and that would be an excuse and maybe we could score some girls there, right?"

Sam swallowed his bite of burger and lifted a fist for Artie to bump. "Absolutely! Cool. But you have to tell me what you're styling and I'll get you a boutonniere or something when I pick you up. We'll eat where you want and remember colors count with the ladies, bro. I gotta call Kurt."

Artie was utterly stunned. He'd just wanted someone to hang with but now he had a blond guy date.

He called Kurt.

* * *

Santana chose her dress in five minutes, Brittany in ten. They chose a dress for Rachel in fifteen but she laboriously tried on dress after dress for three hours until Santana sent Kurt a frantic text about a fashion 911 and added the most uncharacteristic word PLEASE. He arrived as Rachel appeared from the dressing room in a blue…frock?

She looked tremendously happy, even relieved, to see him until he immediately said, "Code! Crash cart! V-fib-or-d-fib or whatever they say in medical shows."

Rachel glared at him.

"I'm serious! Beep, beep, beep! Santana, charge the paddles and clear!"

Rachel put her hands on her waist and growled out, "Okay, stop it, Kurt. I get it—it's not the dress for me."

"It's not the dress for any girl, sweetheart, unless she were preparing to look dainty milking cows."

"Fine!" Rachel glowered at the dress Santana and Brittany had chosen for her hours earlier, picked it up and flounced into the dressing room to change.

Rachel came out, twirled around and Kurt smiled. Dark rose red. Light fabric that clung to and accentuated her body which even he could see was slammin'. A slight drape over her shoulders and fairly modest in the front but less modest in the back. Her back and backside were big selling points for him. And short enough to accentuate those gorgeous legs of hers.

"That's it, Rachel. We'll talk about the shoes and the hair but that, girl, is a dress that will knock Quinn on the ground."

Santana threw her hands in the air, "See? We told you that hours ago!"

Rachel had been so off kilter all day and was so irritated she felt like she was dissolving into a vat of every school experience she'd ever had. "Of course you did, Santana."

Santana had been aware of exactly the attitude Rachel had been throwing and finally snapped. She lowered her voice, "Don't think I don't know what this is about, little girl. I do. I have been nothing but your fucking personal Sir Lancelot since Quinn brought you home from the pound. But the idea of prom and all this high school shit's got you all cray cray and now you're all flashback angst princess up in here about how we used to treat you in school and dragging the trust issues you evidently still have with _me _into choosing a prom dress for _you_."

She waved a hand. "Got that part. Britts and me have been entirely accommodating and putting up with your petulant ass for hours! _Hours!_ Do you think the old me would have bothered to have been_ seen_ with you for even ten minutes to prank you for a prom dress? Short answer, midget? No. I deserve a lot of shit for the past but boo the fuck hoo. Talk to me about it sometime if you wanna." She shook her head.

"But don't come with the passive aggressive because that shit bores me. And by the way, wonder why Quinn didn't wanna shop with you and threw me and Britts under this prom bus? Huh. Maybe she guessed you'd trust _her_ so much more than you trust me she'd be sitting here for a solid-ass week. Now that you got Kurt, I'm going to chill because I'm red zone. I'm gonna go get Britts and me and Kurt some frozen yogurt and get you whatever frozen vegan shit you can eat."

Rachel opened her mouth and Santana zipped a fist in the air, "No! Don't even with me right now. Your prom dress is beautiful! Incoming vegan cold shit! Meet us in the food court. I still love you. Period."

Brittany offered Rachel and Kurt a sad little smile over her shoulder as she followed Santana.

Kurt sighed, "Wow. You_ really_ hurt her feelings."

Rachel shoulders fell. "I know I did. And I do trust her." She put her head on his shoulder. "It's just so strange, Kurt. I'm choosing prom dresses with Santana Lopez. '_Now_ me' knows she loves me but 'old me' is a lot older and it's still so unbelievable."

They both held the sadness of that for a few moments before he said, "I know honey. I'm going to the prom with David. Sometimes that makes me so frightened I want to vomit."

Rachel smiled and hugged him. "David won't hurt you anymore. Not the way he used to."

"I know he won't but Santana was right, sweetie. She _is _a little like Lancelot. Or maybe more like Saint George. She really would fight dragons for you."

"I know she would. I'll apologize."

* * *

They bought the dress and met Santana and Brittany in the food court. Santana scowled and slid a cup to Kurt, "I gotcha vanilla chocolate swirl with Sno-Caps. I would have bought bigger but I know you like small so you don't have to do wind sprints."

He smiled, completely perplexed, "How'd you know that?"

"I've lived around you for like twelve years? You learn crap if you have ears. And midget, a lemon-lime sorbet is the best I could do for you." She slid the cup to Rachel.

"Thank you, Santana."

Santana rolled her eyes at the look in Rachel's, "Please. Don't go all super 'I'm sorry' on me. I'm sorry too, okay?"

She took a huge spoon of raspberry yogurt with walnuts, shared it with Brittany and said as if she were just reading the news rather gently and softly. "What's really funny, Rachel, is that you're about to say you're sorry and you should be because you've been a complete douche. Then I'll say fine, whatever, and I'll mean it even though you've made this day a drag from the past. Because it doesn't have to mean anything lastingly emotional for us." She faux-smiled. "Pretty much pro forma."

She took a bite of Brittany's yogurt and said, "You don't seem to be catching onto the fact that Quinn and I feel sorry and guilty about you every minute of every day and that neither of us will ever get over it. By that I do mean ever. You might not know that about _me_ but I'd think you'd know that about Quinn at this point. We both love you so much and we're soul-crushingly sorry for having hurt you. But? The really, really funny and nearly ironic thing about the situation is this."

She pointed her spoon at Rachel.

"Quinn and I walk around so much more sorry than you'd ever require from us because you're so amazingly, unbelievably forgiving. But _we'll_ never be sorry enough for _us_ because we're both, at heart, unforgiving people. It's who we are and the whole unforgiving thing includes us. We will never forgive ourselves for what we did to you and if you don't know that about us, you need to listen and learn something. Promise. Now, enjoy your sorbet, hobbs."

Kurt knew Santana was two people—the smack talker and the almost genius person. But he couldn't believe she'd spoken about something so sensitive in front of him and the sadness of what she'd said nearly choked him. He focused on his yogurt and forced himself not to cry.

Rachel felt heartbroken because she still always saw such raw sadness and guilt in Quinn's eyes and no amount of love or therapy had changed it. She didn't know why she hadn't realized there was the same look in Santana's eyes. She refused to cry because she was completely used to not crying when she shouldn't and because of the same two people. She tried her sorbet and said, "It's really good, Santana."

Santana shrugged her shoulders and said, "Well, _yeah_. I chose it for you. Just like that _dress_, dwarf. _De nada_."

Rachel smiled because she knew Santana needed a change of tone, "Just had to get that in, didn't you?"

"Remember who you're talking to, midge? Gimme a bite of that sorbet."

Rachel offered her one and Santana lifted her arms in triumph. "_Okay_? That shit rocks! Santana Maria Lopez for the win! Give Britts and Kurt a taste." She semi-glared at Rachel but then smiled and knocked a fist on the table twice and touched her heart.

Rachel returned the gesture and smiled at her.

Brittany already knew all of this stuff and it was super sad and true but she smiled as Rachel offered her a spoonful.

Santana suddenly jumped up, rushed around the table and hugged Rachel so tightly it made the tiny girl squeal, then surprised Kurt by hugging him so hard it made _him_ squeal.

Santana released him and said, "There! That's all the emo I'm ever doing in a shopping mall food court for the rest of my life unless it's a replay of Dawn of the Dead O4 and it could be from how this day's gone."

Kurt was so irrationally startled by that movie reference and his location that he looked around wildly as he lifted both hands, "What? We have to barricade the doors!"

They all laughed but Brittany said as she lifted a spoon of yogurt, "No worries, Kurt. San sort of let me see that movie. I totally know I could kick any zombie to death. They move really dumb, fast or slow, and you can see them coming from forever away. I wouldn't let a zombie eat any of you. You guys would be totally safe with me."

Santana cackled, "Right? Now, we gots our dresses. What you wearin' bitch?"

He paused in the lingering effect of adrenaline and the revelation of the unexpected zombie killer in his Glee club. "I TOLD you that movie traumatized me, Rachel, and are you saying you all want to shop with me, Santana?"

"Why the hell not?" She sang, "Let's get it started…let's get it started in here." She waved an index finger, "But finish your yogurt and don't be a Rachel. We know you're all Queer Eye, Kurt, but you put on what we pick out, too."

Kurt felt his pulse rate lower only slightly because he was both charmed by being included but deeply alarmed by what the triumvirate of Rachel, Brittany and Santana might produce. A unicorn Liberace with a decided hint of malice?

He gird his loins.

At the end of the day, he actually had what he considered the perfect suit. Brittany had picked it. He couldn't believe it existed in Lima and knew some gay man somewhere in the store had to have stocked it. It was very dark chartreuse sharkskin yet the cut managed to look very masculine and very retro Rat Pack. He loved it but immediately realized there was no way to match this. Black and white for his date. He speed-dialed David.

* * *

After he'd given David the heads up to be suitably attired, Kurt finally sat in his room and took a deep breath. Glee was dressed. After all the desperate speed-dialing, Kurt shook his head thinking about it. He knew most of his Glee people had actually attended Junior Prom but now they were acting like they'd lost their minds and had no idea what to do. He was left with the tragic conclusion that each of them had used their parents for what they essentially considered gay man advice last year. It was slightly insulting yet slightly cheering.

He rolled his eyes thinking about it—they'd all crawled toward tolerance. At one point he was just the resident gay boy. Now he was their go-to gay man. At the heart of it, he recognized they called him because they trusted him and he was truly their friend. However, very few people in Glee seemed to have any fashion common sense which was sort of strange for a show choir. Even Mr. Schue, who'd weirdly enough called to ask about his socks. Everyone in Glee had involved him in one way or another. Everyone except Quinn.

* * *

Quinn was extremely nervous as she walked down the stairs of her home to present herself to her mother for pre-prom perusal. She hadn't told her what she was wearing.

Judy's mouth dropped open, then closed, then opened. "Oh. My. God. Marlene Dietrich in _Morocco_, except more beautiful."

Quinn smiled with relief. "That was the look I was aiming for."

Quinn had curled and crimped her hair so it hung in tightly crimped ringlets just below her jaw line. She was wearing a black tuxedo with white linen, a white cummerbund, a white bow tie, a white pocket square, black heels, lightly smoky eye makeup and matte rose red lipstick.

Judy continued to look at her until it was almost uncomfortable.

"Is something wrong, Mom?"

"Oh. No. No, no. Everything's right. My head's spinning but I'm fine. I'd just like to make one suggestion, please."

Quinn steeled herself. "Fine."

Judy exhaled and said very tenderly, "I know you don't like for people to look at you or talk about your appearance. I think I know exactly why. All of your life I've watched you glaring at people to keep their eyes off of you. But it's Senior Prom and of course it's only a silly night but it's something you'll be able to look back upon with Rachel. Just for tonight, why don't you try to relax and enjoy how beautiful you are? You didn't ask for it but it's not a sin to enjoy what God gave you."

Judy gently touched Quinn's lapels, "You're so guarded and that's just you and I know that and it's fine. I guess what your creaky old mother is trying to say is own it, enjoy it and yourself tonight and put the swagger in your attitude a fine tuxedo like this deserves. It'll knock Rachel's socks off."

Quinn actually almost wanted to cry but she smiled at her mother instead. "One, you're not even remotely creaky or old and two there was a point in our lives I couldn't be sure Rachel wouldn't actually wear socks to the prom."

Judy grinned. "Thank you and she's not. I've seen the dress and shoes."

"How?"

"Parents keep in touch."

Quinn stared at her.

"Fine. Jacob took a picture and sent it to me. He asked for information and was horrified I didn't have any details."

"They had one detail. I told her I didn't need a corsage."

"That terrified him."

"Good. I love her and dad so much but planning to go to the prom with them is like going through basic training in hell."

"He's not going to believe this."

"Why not come with me for the big reveal?"

Judy clapped her hands. "Really?!"

"Of course. I know one of my dads will bring you back home. It'll be fun. You all can do the geek out parent thing with cameras together."

* * *

When they knocked on the door a very crazily excited Jacob and a chill Eric answered. Jacob took one long look at Quinn and clapped two hands over his mouth to stifle a scream. Eric just smiled, pointed at Quinn and said, "That's MY girl." He took her into his arms and hugged her tightly. He released her, kissed Judy's cheek and said, "Come in and let the crazy begin. Rach was completely ready nearly yesterday but you know we have to wait for the grand appearance so we probably have about ten minutes."

They called up to Rachel and she shouted she needed fifteen minutes.

They all smiled and Eric poured wine for the adults and apple cider for Quinn. Jacob was completely fixated on Quinn. Nearly flailing actually and finally said, "Oh my God. I got it! Marlene in _Morocco_."

"Without the cigarette and the hat but that's what I was aiming for."

Eric smiled as he took a sip of wine. "You aimed for it, killed it and field dressed it because you're even more beautiful."

He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Jake, don't you dare repeat anything I'm about to say. And excuse my language Judy, but I'm your daughter's Daddy and her wonder twin to boot. Quinn? Rachel's dress is gorgeous and a dream come true but you in that tux are going to completely upstage the fuck out of her. _Do it_. Do it big time. Kill it and go for it. She won't know what to do with herself but I promise she'll be happy and really proud."

He lowered his voice even more. "We all know she likes being the princess and the center of attention but…" tears welled in his eyes, "you know exactly what I mean. I'm not talking about who you two are now. I mean the past. Showing up with you like this will mean so much to her. Play it up. All eyes will be on you at the prom but _you_ asked _her_. I know you'd be the best date ever anyway but please act as if you deserve the attention you're going to get. It'll make her so proud you chose her and yeah, maybe it'll be in a really juvenile middle school-high school way, but she's never had that and she deserves to. We both know why."

Jacob and Judy felt tears welling but Quinn only nodded. "Will do and Mommy already told me that in a different way. Not a problem. I _am_ the most popular and best looking person at that school. God help me. Can I have one sip of wine? I can promise I need it and that Rachel cannot possibly get me pregnant. Mom?"

Her mother handed her wine glass over. Quinn didn't sip it. She slugged what little was left in the glass and nodded her head as she heard Rachel screeching, "I'm ready!"

Quinn smiled. Typical.

Rachel was making her big entrance, her big reveal and she thought she looked really pretty but she walked down the stairs to…Quinn. In a tuxedo. Looking more feminine and beautiful in a tuxedo than anyone actually could or should ever be able to.

It was her fault! She'd told Quinn she was the boy.

Quinn broke her semi-trance with a vibrant smile. "Look at you, Rachel. You look amazing! Turn around, gorgeous girl."

Quinn held one hand as Rachel turned, feeling like a princess. _Quinn_ was saying nice things to her. Quinn was taking her to the prom. It felt impossible to believe.

Quinn pulled a box from behind her back and presented her corsage. "I knew your dress was rose red but you know how I am. I wanted it to match you but also match me because I'd be jealous if we couldn't be together even on your wrist. My linen is white so I picked a gardenia for me and a rose for you. They smell magical together and you deserve magic, angel."

Rachel didn't really know what to say. This was perfect. She was so in love and Quinn was so perfect that she sighed and whispered her honest, first thought. "You do know you're upstaging me, don't you?"

Eric face-palmed. His baby.

Quinn almost laughed but grinned instead and winked, "Maybe a little. For the night. Do you mind?"

Rachel looked up at Quinn. Really looked at her hair, her perfect makeup, crisp linen, the cut of her tuxedo and shook her head no.

Quinn winked at Eric and then the parents took what seemed like six thousand pictures before Eric announced, "Jake and decided we deserved a night out at Lima's only bed and breakfast. God knows how they stay open because I think only locals go there. So you get the night free here, girls. You can invite Brittany and Santana if they want. Nobody else. We'll have our phones on and call us when you're home. Curfew is 1AM because you can't do anything in Lima that late that won't get you in trouble and I _will _come looking for you if I don't hear you're home. Under no circumstances can you drive if some sort of punch magically gets adult. Rachel has the money to get all four of you home in a cab. Hear me?"

Rachel was delighted. "We hear you, daddy!"

* * *

They met Brittany and Santana at their little Thai place.

The two women, in their dresses, were seriously killing it and looked amazing, but Santana took one look at Quinn leading Rachel up the walk with serious swagger and said, "No way."

Quinn shrugged because she'd given herself a little permission to be real for the evening. "I thought I just might bring a little party to the party."

Santana was nonplussed by this person who was not her Quinn. Quinn was acting and looking like some debonair self-assured Cary Grant sort of guy. It was the hottest thing she'd ever seen. She stepped closer and from the look in her eyes, Quinn immediately laughed and whispered, "I appreciate the eye-shag but no, I won't fuck you."

Santana laughed right back and stamped one heel in the ground. "Sucks to be me because I know for sure Britts would gimme a pass the way you're looking. And midge, you're rocking that dress and that hair."

"Thank you, Santana! You and Brittany are looking rather fetching yourselves!"

Brittany smiled and said, "Thanks Rach, but it's sort of super cool you're going to the prom with the hottest girl_ and_ the hottest guy all in one."

Rachel squeezed Quinn's waist and looked up at her with adoration and something like disbelief in her eyes, "Absolutely."

Quinn smiled down at her. Eric was right. For really painful reasons, he was right.

When they entered the restaurant, Quinn turned up the wattage and Santana suddenly completely understood why Irena had suggested Quinn act. Besides the obvious fact she'd been acting all her life, the girl could work it and she truly really looked like a movie star. Like a REAL movie star. She was just that focus-pulling. What Rachel could do onstage, Quinn could do walking across a room if she chose to. Quinn chose containment in high school—don't look and don't touch—but she'd chosen to make people look tonight. The entire restaurant literally turned to look at her. Quinn noticed that, smiled even more brightly and laughed as she pulled Rachel's seat out for her.

Santana whispered, "Holy shit, Q. What are you doing?"

Quinn smiled at Santana, "What? I am the prettiest girl ever, apparently, or so my sperm-donor always told me. I'm choosing to act like I'm that tonight. You do know who's in charge right?"

That statement was hugely bittersweet for all of them but Rachel smiled at her menu and replied, "You are. Would you order for me, Quinn?"

"Of course I will, angel. How about our favorite? A double order of spring rolls and we'll split the vegan pad thai with a side order of cast?"

Rachel blushed and smiled. Quinn could see their date was actually going weirdly and happily wonderful.

Santana and Brittany coordinated their order and when the server came to take it, Quinn smiled at him full beam, lowered her voice to a more sultry tone than usual, and he dropped his pen and pad on the floor.

Brittany laughed after he'd left, "Rad, Q. That poor guy. What does the cast thing mean?"

Rachel quietly replied, "It was our first real meal together. We had pad thai and spring rolls with our dads after I broke Quinn's foot and it was in that cast."

Santana gaped, "The fuck? She fell on the stairs at your house."

"No. I sort of slammed my door on it and broke it."

"No the fuck way. You slammed my CAP'S foot in a door?!"

"Yes. It was half an accident."

"You just said _half? _I'm taking you outside."

Quinn laughed, "San, I wanted to talk to her and she didn't want to talk so she slammed my foot in her bedroom door and broke it."

"Why didn't you tell me that?"

"Because you'd be like this and I was in love with her."

Santana glowered at Rachel, took a few deep breaths, then pointed an index finger at her, "Fine. But take about ten points off my guilt, you hear me?"

Rachel smiled and Santana tried to glare but couldn't really. She'd never broken anything on Quinn. The midge evidently had game. Santana lifted her Fresca and said, "Salut!" They all tapped their glasses of soda together.

* * *

David walked to Kurt's door and prayed he looked okay. He was wearing a black suit with white linen and had added a sprig of lavender as his boutonniere.

Burt opened the door, took a long look, actually smiled and gently punched him in the arm. "That's how to bring it. You look great, son."

"Thank you, sir."

Carole joined them and said, "Kurt's going to die."

Kurt walked up the stairs, looked at David and said, "Oh my God! You look so handsome!" He clapped one hand over his mouth as tears filled his eyes. He put his hand down and said, "Lavender for me?"

David smiled, "Lavender for us." He offered a white rose he'd held behind his back for Kurt's boutonniere. "A white rose means, among other things, affection that is loyal, reverent and humble. All the things I should be with you."

He placed it in Kurt's lapel, winked at him and said, "See? I'm a meathead but I can come correct."

Finn bounded up the stairs and said to Karofsky, "Dude! Kurt's suit's crazy right? But it's great. You look really cool, too!"

David was not at all that used to gay/straight boy talk but he tried. "Thanks, man. You look killer too."

"Thanks! Okay—I'm running late. Mom, Burt I'm sorry and love you but I need gay guy stuff now. Do I look okay, dudes?"

Kurt straightened his tie and David said "Left eyebrow."

Kurt licked a thumb and David was astonished that Finn put up with him fixing it with that licked thumb, as he said, "Perfect. Drive safely, Finn. For a formal event, nearly every woman will make you wait ten minutes no matter what. If you're reasonably on time or just a little late, you'll still wait. But don't take advantage of knowing that or she'll take offense."

Finn gaped at him, "Seriously?"

"Promise. You have her corsage?"

"Yeah. I put it in the car five minutes ago."

"Again? First thing you do is tell her how beautiful she looks and then present the corsage. If there are parentals involved, make nice and let them take one thousand pictures. Then remember you're the man and it's your job to make this a night she will always remember, okay? It's her Senior prom night. Her big night. Not yours. Ladies first."

"Got it. Thanks, bro." Finn hugged his mother, man-half-hugged Burt, kissed Kurt on the cheek, then startled David by really hugging him as he whispered, "Take care of my brother or I will kill you."

He ran out to his car as Kurt shouted, "Drive safely! You can't be late!"

Burt whipped out his camera. "Picture time!"

* * *

Matt was wearing a tux for the first time but what he thought was particularly badass was that his cummerbund and tie were exactly the color of Mercedes' dress. Kurt had taken a picture of the dress and had seriously hooked him up with some gay magic for their girl and gotten that stuff all dyed up for him. He'd even dyed a pocket square for him and helped him pick a corsage.

When he rolled to Mercedes' house and her parents opened the door, Mr. Jones happily slapped his shoulder, Mrs. Jones sort of screamed and then, when Mercedes came down the stairs after about ten minutes, she sort of screamed, too. Matt took his time, like Kurt had said, to admire her and say nice things to her before giving her the corsage Kurt had chosen. He could see she was really, really happy. Then the picture-taking began.

He thought, as Mercedes wrapped her arms around his waist, Gay Power!

* * *

Mike picked Tina up wearing something a little daring. A red tux with black piping. Beyond choosing that together, he hadn't listened to Kurt. He'd decided to vegetable dye his hair dark blue for the evening. Tina was wearing blue and nearly collapsed laughing when she saw him. Accessories? _He_ was her accessory. He'd brought her a deep blue flower as her corsage. Picture time with Tina's parents took very nearly forever. They loved their daughter and loved him and his hair. Mike understood. Too many pictures was sort of an Asian thing.

* * *

Lauren opened her door to an impeccable Puck. He'd shaved his Mohawk and was wearing a black tuxedo with a rose boutonniere. She was wearing a black dress. He smiled and said, "See? Right there! Wow! That's what I'm talking 'bout! You look amazing, Lauren. Consider me Mr. Extra Lucky here."

He kissed her cheek and put a corsage of two red roses surrounded by baby's breath around her wrist. "I was thinking about dinner at the new Japanese place. Or anywhere else you want to go. Your choice."

"Japanese—yeah. That sounds great." The house was completely still and Puck asked, "Your mom still working second shift?"

"Yeah."

He nodded. "Mine too. That's okay. Who needs parents to look at us, right? Two badasses looking so hot? But we gotta do this right, baby-doll." He held out his phone and took pictures. They were both truly smiling in all of them.

* * *

Sam picked Artie up right on time. Sam was wearing a dark grey suit. Artie was wearing an electric yellow tuxedo with black piping. Sam had brought him a black orchid. Artie reluctantly placed the orchid in his lapel.

"Okay. But seriously dude? An orchid?"

"Seriously dude? You're wearing a _yellow _tuxedo. It's badass but I'm spiffing you up and toning you down at the same time."

"With an orchid?"

"It'll look fly, I'm telling you."

Artie rolled to the hallway mirror, tilted his head, styled and profiled a little in the mirror a little. Sam was actually right.

"Okay. That's a badass flower. Thanks."

"No problem. Where are your parents?"

"Errybody visiting my aunt Nancy. They said hi. Now where do we go for the chow?"

"Your choice. Please not Breadstix. But I will if you have to."

"How about that Korean place?"

"Righteous. Now hold still Arts. We need pictures because we look great." Sam held out his phone and took them.

* * *

David and Kurt decided Thai would be great, which was how they rolled in about 10 minutes after Brittany, Quinn, Santana and Rachel.

Kurt was a diva. And he felt diva electricity in the room the minute he and David entered the restaurant. Everyone was obviously looking at someone. He scanned the room. He immediately saw Rachel but it wasn't Rachel. Quinn turned toward them, smiled and stood, walked across the room and kissed his cheek. Marlene. _Morocco._ He grasped David's arm because he very nearly swooned.

She said, "Unless you want a private dinner and we'd understand, join us? We just ordered but I'm absolutely certain I could get our server or actually this entire restaurant to speed things up for you and all just for me." She blinked her eyelashes.

Kurt blanked for a second as he asked, "David, is that okay?"

"Of course."

Quinn looked so perfect Kurt almost wanted to literally bite her.

Santana and Brittany were happy to see the guys but Rachel was thrilled. "David! Look at you! Kurt! You both look amazing!"

"Thank you, Rachel. You all look great too but I'm still hyperventilating a little over Quinn."

Rachel smiled and said, "I know! Can you believe it?"

Quinn said, "I'm right here."

"Shhh, Quinn, I'm talking. Can you seriously even wrap your mind around how she looks, Kurt?"

"NO! I completely want to throw myself on the ground right now and bark in a fashion frenzy, don't you?"

"Yes!"

Brittany said firmly, "Guys, you can look at Q all you want and I know she's super crazy pretty tonight but don't talk about her in front of her. I seriously don't like it."

That immediately stopped the talking for a few moments. Quinn took a deep breath and said to David, "Love that lavender."

"Thank you. It's sort of a statement my dad wouldn't understand, if you get me."

"I do indeed. My father understands even less than yours, as I'm sure you know. He has a felonious misunderstanding of reality."

David gave her a curt nod. "You know, I haven't ever eaten here. School me?"

Quinn smiled and said, "When don't I school everyone at our school?"

He snorted. "No kidding, right? Tell me what you think I'll really like. I'm sort a guy for all seasons with food, Quinn. Whatever and as hot as it gets."

Quinn smiled and suddenly felt very satisfied trusting Kurt with this young man.

* * *

The prom was everything you'd expect from a school prom. The theme? "Memories."

The prom committee had decorated the auditorium with banners in their school colors and hundreds of pictures of all of them over the four years. They all mixed and mingled and Quinn was, indeed, the focus of everything. She laughed and smiled and acted like that was okay for her. The music and refreshments were amazing.

Finn loved Jessica but Rachel looked amazing. He didn't even know how to feel about Quinn. He couldn't believe anyone like her had ever dated him.

Sam didn't have any problem with that. He approached Rachel and Quinn and said to Rachel, "You mind if I take your lady for a spin on the floor if she wants?"

Quinn smiled her approval and Rachel said, "Enjoy but all mine."

"Everybody knows that."

He took her to the floor and slow-danced with her and he was so happy she was so happy he felt like he'd explode.

Tina approached Artie, leaned down and touched his shoulder, "Great suit, Arts."

He smiled up at her. "Thanks. Your dress is…so amazing. You look really great."

"Thank you, sweetie. I was thinking someone hired a DJ Mr. Schue didn't know because the music's really good tonight or am I delirious?"

Artie laughed, "Right?"

"So when the next song comes on that either of us would even remotely want to rock to, could I get a dance?"

He exhaled, "Really? Mike won't mind?"

"Of course not. We're all friends, right?"

He took her hand and squeezed it. "Right. We'll kill it, T."

She hugged him tightly and he watched her walk over to Mike as Sam brought him some punch, handed it to him and said, "Static on the ex factor?"

"No. She just asked for a dance."

"See? That's really cool, man. I did the ex thing with Quinn."

"I saw that. She looks like a movie star tonight."

"Yeah she does. Rachel's a lucky girl."

"True dat but flip side too."

"Oh ho—don't think I don't know that."

* * *

Lauren knew they weren't going anywhere romantically but Puck kept his arm around her, danced with her, didn't mind her dancing with other guys or girls but kept his eye on them, brought her punch and other refreshments and was basically a damned Prince Charming. Someday, some girl would get lucky. She was always going to be a little in love with him.

* * *

Mercedes decided she was going to marry Matt even if he didn't know it yet. The whole time they'd been dating, he was just as much a bitch to her as she was to him but he was a real man and talked to her about his future plans, knew to hold a door open for his woman and put a gentle hand on her when they were walking and stepped in front of anything he thought might hurt her. Even a damn poodle or some street person or something. That man took care of her in every little way and every big way. Matt was a real man. Okay. To be real? Maybe still a boy. But still. A real man.

* * *

Mike danced with Tina and they were having a great time before she said, "The next song that's cool for it, go dance with Britts. Show off a little. You should."

"Really?"

"Really. And actually, I might have suggested a song for the DJ."

He kissed her. She was completely in love with him.

When the DJ busted out Footloose, Mike laughed and pointed at Brittany and the crowd immediately parted on the dance floor.

They both laughed as they danced and they were so insanely good everyone was gawking at them. Not that they were surprised. They'd seen it for years. But seeing artists dance like they could was very, very cool. When they finished everyone cheered uproariously.

* * *

The DJ, John, was wildly impressed and spoke into his mike, "Okay! And wow! You guys rock. I'm taking a little break now but I heard from Mr. Figgins that someone will sing you a little song while I'm out. Okay performer. Come on up."

Rachel marched up the stairs with Quinn behind her.

Quinn didn't use a mic—she used her presence. Everyone immediately fell silent. Then she said, "No noise from any of you. It's a song about our prom. Listen to Rachel."

Rachel didn't use a mic either. She didn't need one. She simply sang at top volume but easily managed tenderness with it. Santana's shoulders fell as she heard the first few words. Of course. Barbra.

Rachel sang _a cappella_

Memories, light the corners of my mind  
Misty watercolor memories of the way we were  
Scattered pictures  
Of the smiles we left behind  
Smiles we gave to one another  
For the way we were.  
Can it be that it was all so simple then?  
Or has time rewritten every line?  
If we had the chance to do it all again  
Tell me would we?  
Could we?  
Memories, may be beautiful and yet  
What's too painful to remember  
We simply choose to forget  
So it's the laughter  
We will remember  
Whenever we remember  
The way we were  
The way we were

She gave it everything she had and it truly rang through the auditorium. The attendees burst into wild applause.

The DJ was standing next to someone he knew was named Will and asked, "Jesus eff Christ. Who the fuck _is _that kid?"

William Schuester smiled and cried as he clapped. "Her name is Rachel Barbra Berry. Remember it."

* * *

Mr. Figgins walked across the stage in the silence his DJ had made for his announcement. "I will now announce the Homecoming King." He looked at the paper in front of him and said, "By a landslide, apparently, we have a write-in vote of Quinn Fabray."

Quinn burst into laughter before she climbed the stairs to claim her crown. Mr. Figgins clearly didn't know what to do but gave her the crown. Quinn could scarcely contain herself laughing as she put it on her head.

Mr. Figgin looked at next paper in front of him and stared at it. "For homecoming queen, apparently, we have a write-in vote for Quinn Fabray."

Quinn bent over and laughed so hard Santana thought she might have to run up and do CPR.

Quinn took her tiara, plonked it on top of her crown, took Figgins' mic and said. "You really like me!" She burst into laughter again.

"_Not._ Although I know this was a joke vote I do thank you for the sentiment of making me a joke. I completely deserve it. I hope making a spectacle of me assuages some of the hurt I've caused you all. Thank you and I wish you all a great night, a safe ride home and what happiness the rest of Senior year and life can afford you. Although I can and often have danced by myself, I'd rather dance the homecoming king and queen dance with my girl, Rachel Berry."

Rachel smiled at her and they danced. Rachel knew the kids had voted for Quinn because she was the biggest and prettiest human in their class. Quinn thought they were making fun of her. Rachel smiled because she had to.

* * *

Nothing, no matter how happy, was ever easy for or with Quinn. Rachel held her very tightly to make up for Quinn's embarrassment as they danced. Santana couldn't watch and walked out of the building. Brittany followed her and sat with her on Quinn's car.

Santana cried for a few minutes and Brittany let her. Then she pointed up and said, "Look at the moon, San."

Santana looked at it and finally said, "Cool, huh?"

"Yeah. Everything's cool. Except Quinn can't understand some people actually sort of do like her and weren't pranking her."

Santana wanted to punch something but said, "What can we do, Britts?"

"Nothing. We can't do anything. Go home with them and pretend it didn't happen. Story of Quinn's life, pretty much."

As Puck and Lauren joined them, Lauren said, "She seriously took that the wrong way."

Sam walked out as Artie wheeled beside him and said, "That was painful."

Mike and Tina, Kurt and David, Mercedes and Matt, joined them because they couldn't take it either.

Suddenly Finn's date, Jessica, ran out to the parking lot and squawked, "Come back and look right now!"

They all ran back in and Artie rolled in. Rachel had demanded it and the DJ had pulled it up off the Internet on the fly. Karaoke so Quinn and Finn could sing the cheesiest song ever._ I Had The Time of My Life_.

Rachel was clapping her hands as Finn and Quinn sang the song to each other. Even Finn knew it was cheesy so he went full cheese. Quinn was wearing her crown, had put her tiara on him and laughed as she played off him. Quinn actually looked like she was having the time of her life because it was the most ridiculous thing ever.

The rest of their class cheered for them the whole time and at the end of it, Quinn and Rachel threw themselves into Finn's arms. The entire Glee club was wildly relieved as Kurt took a picture. Senior Prom!

**A/N The reason I put the Santana/Rachel smackdown in this was that although Santana had loved and protected Rachel she'd never officially apologized in this story. I thought she should.**


	91. Chapter 91

**A/N **

**NOT A CHAPTER!**

**A little note to my fellow fanfic writers/readers:**

**I've been writing fanfic for nearly a decade under different names in a few wildly different fandoms not on FF. I also write for a living. Have done all my life. **

**I can, and have, written some dark and some really adult stuff in other more adult-based fandoms. I've made the choice in this fandom and with these child characters, who****_ are _****children for most of this story, to be kind to them. I love them and want them happy.**

**This is the last fanfic I'll ever write so why not go out being nice to characters I love? I do love them and I want to make readers laugh and love them, too. I think and hope it shows. **

**FF gives you such cool statistics. Tonight, I have 1,493,170 hits on this story. Plus, I can see who's reading me where. Let's look…**

**This story? People from the USA, Canada, United Kingdom, Norway, Australia, Brazil, Argentina, Philippines, Mexico, Spain, France, New Zealand, Switzerland, Sweden, Germany, Croatia, Venezuela, Brunei, Poland, Singapore, Korea, South Africa, Taiwan, Greece, Netherlands, Jamaica, Japan, China, Trinidad, Tobago, Indonesia, Malta, Hong Kong, Slovenia, Bulgaria, Chile, Tunisia, Malaysia, Ecuador, Portugal, Denmark, Colombia, Israel, Barbados, Turkey, Kenya, Portugal, Finland and Vietnam read my last chapter this month. **

**I'm very grateful I have readers in so many places but I have a larger point when I list them.**

**Some of these readers/writers live in countries and cultures in which they could very much be endangered (to put it mildly) by reading a story about same-sex couples if anyone discovered it. Places where it's not just their families or their religion and culture telling them they shouldn't/can't be homosexual. Places where people die for it, politically and quite legally. **

**And yet they read. **

**Imagine what sort of longing and need to connect leads them to take such risks. Seriously. You at home? Safe at home? Imagine what connecting to a story when you could be killed for it must mean for someone half a world away. You, safe at home, read it and it's nothing to you. Someone in another country reads it and could be killed for it. And still they read.**

**I'm not talking about me or my story—at all. I'm talking about the beauty and reality of connection.**

**Writers and readers? Remember, anything we send out into the world does actually matter. Many people here on FF (who skew younger in the Glee fandom, for obvious reasons) may be writing or reading fanfic, especially same-sex fanfic, because it's their only way of expressing themselves or finding other people who feel the way they do. **

**I write fanfic and read it because it's fun. Everybody I know knows I'm gay. I'm an adult and I live in a fairly tolerant place on our planet and can live and work without having someone legally imprison or kill me because I'm a gay person. I'm profoundly lucky that's true. Most of the people in our world aren't so lucky.**

**We should all be grateful for whatever grace allows some of us to read without fear of violence and legal retaliation against us for reading and/or writing. And thankful that somewhere someone who isn't so lucky can reach out and find what he or she needs from ANY ONE OF US, a community of people in our WORLD who write and who read.**

**Why not take a second to remember that and take comfort in the sheer humanity of that? Why not remember you're never really alone on this Earth and what you say and do matters? Because it does. Someone needs exactly what ****_you_**** have to say today. You may never know what you've done for a person you've just smiled at or spoken to at a gas station. Today. One moment of kindness. Someone who may never know you personally or ever see you again has been waiting for you to just be kind for even a few seconds.**

**I'm not talking about being a walking, talking, stupid-ass bumper sticker. If you knew me, you'd know I am NOT that sort of person. At all. I'm sort of a Santana on steroids and human growth hormones. Promise. I don't do sincerity. But for today, I will.**

**I'm talking about your voice.**

**Your singular, spectacular human voice breaks the silence all human beings need broken. When you write or read fanfic, remember you, very specifically ****_you_****, writer or reader, matter. For somebody. Somewhere.**

**Don't ever forget that, minimize yourselves or take that for granted. All of us matter. **

**So read, write and talk amongst yourselves. ****_Kindly. _****Kindness costs nothing. **

**I'm writing this as my birthday message to you. It's a big eventful birthday for me soon. **

**And yeah, I KNOW 'We don't give a fuck it's not your birthday." Fitty Cent—get out my face and this crazy A/N. **

**Happy happy, people. Next chapter will be about the people.**


	92. Chapter 92

**Chapter One Disclaimers Apply. I'll adjust them to say, again, nothing is mine and this is so AU it's sort of Australian at this point. (Smiling at my readers in Oz).**

**Please remember this story ended a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. **

**A/N: For the purposes of this chapter, I'm fully aware I've not fleshed out Santana and Brittany's families. I think the fact that the families treat both girls as their own and always have says all you need to know. I also did this because I had to control the character overflow somehow. If only I'd do something about these chapter overflows, right? **

**There's one song in this chapter. Pretend there's something called youtube. Go there. Elliott Smith. Miss Misery.**

**watch?v=zH8-lQ9CeyI **

**This will go back and forth over a few days. I'll do my best to keep it clear. Let's see what our girls were up to when they were moving into their dorms, shall we? **

* * *

**Age 18**

**Planning for D-Day**

* * *

They actually called it D-Day. The day they'd leave Lima, Ohio. They weren't at all like so many of the men who were teenagers as they stormed the beaches of Normandy, risking their lives to free civilization from the powers of darkness. But they were teenagers, so if they were storming New York to free themselves from Lima, that seemed a reasonable enough analogy to them.

All four girls had assessed the incoming parental 'let's take our girls to New York' thing. It was bound to make a stressful situation more stressful. After much, some tearful, discussion, it was decided that Puck would drive a one-way moving truck to New York with the girls taking a rental car and following him. He'd help them unload, return the moving truck and drive the rental car back to Lima.

He'd been completely stoked when they'd asked him. He barked out, "Are you kidding? A road trip with four hotties? Hell yeah!" They'd all rolled their eyes but he was completely serious from then on.

As he drove home after they'd finally discussed it/cleared it with four sets of parents, he considered the awesome T-Rex of a move they were all making away from him and felt a fierce stinging in his eyes.

But fuck that. _He_ was gonna get to be the badass leading them all out of Lima to where they belonged. All of his girls' parentals wanted to go but they _weren't _going and trusted _him_ to take them there. And his girls had asked _him_. He cranked up some man tunes because there was no way he was going to cry. The last was White Zombie. _More Human Than Human_. His go-to song when he didn't know how he felt. He sang along and slapped his steering wheel along with the snare drum and the anger of the words felt almost like joy.

In varying degrees of exasperation they all dutifully disguised, Quinn, Santana and Brittany had sat through Rachel's extended PowerPoint about the packing of the essentials they'd need for their respective dorm situations. Ms. Sokoll had flexed her Russian muscle to ensure that Brittany and Rachel would share a room at Juilliard and that Santana and Quinn would share at Columbia.

Quinn and Santana jointly sent flowers to Ms. Sokoll after receiving the housing notification letters. Santana couldn't bear thinking Brittany wouldn't have someone in the dorm to help and protect her and Quinn knew Brittany would fight a lion for Rachel. That Santana and Quinn thought the other's partner would protect the other's partner wasn't discussed so the irony was lost on both of them.

Quinn and Santana were just happy they could get away from 'dorm life' together. True, they'd share a room that adjoined another double room and all four suite-mates would share a bathroom but that was better than sharing a floor bathroom. There were plenty of other people on their floor and the dorm had a reputation as party central. Since Quinn didn't drink except for celebrations with Rachel and after becoming a wife, Santana thought it inappropriate to party without Brittany, it wasn't ideal. But they decided they could handle it—the one thing that sold them was that it wasn't a true corridor dorm. The four to one bathroom ratio and the fact they had two doors away from, if not their 'suite-mates', from the rest of the people on it? Pow!

They were both hyper-aware they weren't typical 18-year-old innocently excited, anxious freshmen. For one thing Santana was married and Quinn was as good as, emotionally. For another, they were nobody's fucking freshmen and hadn't been even in high school. They were nervous about the move and the separation from their girls. They weren't nervous about the social aspect of it one bit except for the fact they could feel their fingers itching at the possibility of having to kick some residential collegiate freshman ass. Quinn really tried not to feel guilty about feeling a little bit of residual bully happiness knowing that might happen. Santana was merely thrilled at the prospect.

At Julliard, all incoming freshman had to spend one year in the dorm. They could walk a few steps to the Lincoln Center and to every one of their classes. Rachel and Brittany would be sharing a double in a suite that housed three doubles and two singles. 2.5 baths. A communal living area and a cafeteria downstairs. The meal plan was included in the housing. Eight people in their joint living space. Their room had bunk-beds. Brittany called top, "Because seriously, Rach, I could just jump in and out and you'd have use the ladder and you could fall down if you were sleepy."

Rachel's face fell because she'd never had friends until nobody had a bunk bed so she'd never gotten to sleep on top of one. Brittany looked at her for a long moment and said, "We can totally have sleepovers and you can come up and I'll take the outside so you don't fall off, okay?"

Rachel beamed at Brittany as Santana and Quinn sighed, knowing the two girls would undoubtedly sleep in the same bed the whole school year.

As they'd left Brittany and Rachel to their plans, Quinn said with decided snark in her voice, "If you need a little cuddle in the night, San, I'll put up with it."

Santana cut her eyes at Quinn. "Please, bitch. You're the one who'll need a tiny ethnic cuddle bunny."

Quinn roughly pulled Santana to her and kissed her cheek. "I can't stand being away from them already."

"Right?"

As they packed, Rachel realized that Quinn had decided she needed very little to live. She'd packed clothes and loaded her laptop with pictures of all of them. She'd added a couple of small framed pictures of her with Rachel and her mom and her fathers.

She and Rachel had gone to a ceramic 'paint your own' store on a date when they were seventeen and she was taking the coffee cup Rachel had painted a gentle forest green with _Quinn_ written in gold paint in the bottom of it. Her iPod, her Kindle and a small green-shaded lamp. Nothing else except green sheets and a comforter, green towels, washcloths and her cosmetics and health care products. Plus Doubleduplexlegs. Four boxes plus framed, wrapped pictures.

Rachel had felt lost. She wanted to take everything. Quinn tried to walk her off the cliff of overpacking and it had taken hours as she kept reminding the smaller girl of her PowerPoint and that Brittany would be living in their tiny room too. After too many clothes, laptop and iPod, framed Wicked and Funny Girl posters made the cut because they had the truck. She'd chosen rose red sheets with a matching duvet with gold stars on it. She'd decided red was more collegiate than pink so she also added red towels and wash cloths.

She'd packed the coffee cup Quinn had painted for her. It was black with the Big and Little Dipper stars perfectly emblazoned in gold across either side of the handle. She'd painted in exquisitely minute lettering around the bottom of the cup,_ I see them in the sky but Rachel is my only star. _Rachel had been completely overwhelmed and delighted with it but a bit disconsolate realizing she was clearly not the visual artist Quinn was. The bigger jolt, which felt like someone had thrown a slushie on her psyche, was that Quinn was the truly naturally romantic one of the two of them.

Although she was a driven and optimistic realist, Rachel had studiously worked on developing a romantic sensibility. Quinn evidently didn't have to. Just like Santana's dancing. Neither of them worked on either of their talents—they existed naturally with no work involved. When Quinn had given the cup to her, Rachel had flushed red thinking she should have already known that from the way Quinn kissed her. She blushed scarlet again packing it.

The packing continued. Skin and hair care products took up a not so small box. Quinn blinked and accepted this. Eight boxes, two gift wrapped boxes plus framed, wrapped pictures.

Santana and Brittany had packed as sparely as Quinn, both adding stuffed ducks. Santana had chosen purple for her bedding and Brittany had chosen yellow. They were both taking framed pictures of them together, the Glee Club, the Cheerios and a few of them with Rachel and Quinn. Both of them looked at their four boxes each after they'd packed them and they exhaled heavily. They'd never really lived apart since they'd been three. They didn't cry. Brittany wouldn't because she knew Santana wouldn't want to. Because then maybe they'd never stop crying until they got to New York, where it would be super worse. Brittany sighed. Higher education sucked.

**D-Day**

Eric and Jacob and Judy had invited all of the parents to come to a 'going away' breakfast at 6AM. The girls had all brought their belongings to the Berry house so that Puck would have one pick-up point.

There was laughter and lots of food at the beginning. As early as it was, all of the parents were drinking enormous Mimosas and told their children they'd fobbed off their other children on relatives and were staying for lunch and dinner at the Berry house to commiserate about their nestlings leaving. No worries. Champagne!

After Puck and Quinn, who were driving the truck and rental car, denied themselves anything but coffee and orange juice, Rachel, Santana and Brittany downed a few Mimosas themselves. Quinn wholeheartedly approved of this because Rachel needed a sedative to leave their parents and Santana needed a sedative to face leaving Brittany. Brittany just wanted to chill because Santana was completely freaking and it was super important to be chill when Santana wasn't. Even and especially if she was freaking, too.

**The Day before D-Day**

Puck had determined it was going to be a great trip. He'd mapped out their route and had decided that, although they could do it in one really long-ass day of driving, they'd get in too late and too tired for unpacking. He told them they'd do the long part of the drive the first day and he'd already made reservations in a hotel in Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania so they could stay the night and have only about three hours to drive before they arrived to unload.

When Quinn pulled him aside and asked him about the hotel price, he said, "All your 'rents are chipping in for the truck and car and gas and food. I've already talked to them about it and they think a rest stop's a good idea. They offered to pay but I told them it was on me."

"You don't have to do that, Puck."

He smiled at her and cupped her cheek. He was so gentle and looked so sad that she allowed it as he said, "Don't ever tell me what I don't have to do for you, Quinn. I can pay for this and I really want to. A little gift from me to send you guys off, okay?"

She looked up into his earnest brown eyes and nodded.

He grinned, "So here's the deal. We rock a long drive to spend the night on the east side of Penn. Eat some early breakfast, then drive about three hours and we'll get there and unload you and San. But then we'll really move Britts and Rach in. I know you and San can deal with the whole unpacking meet and greet stuff but I want us all there in full force to help my Jew and our Britts. For all their suite mates. Show 'em what they're working with, if you get me."

She punched him lightly on the shoulder and said, "I do. Thank you."

He shied away from her a little before saying, "Somehow, I can already feel Rach packed way too much."

She shrugged admittance. "I really tried but she's twice of all of us, Puck. You know that. We can't stop her."

He could only half-smile. "I know. She always has been." He hesitated before adding, "I'm really proud of all of you. I hope you know that."

She could see the crushing sadness behind the bluff that was nearly always there in both of their beautiful faces. "This isn't the end, Puck. Don't think that."

"It feels like it."

Quinn just looked up into his eyes and said, "Don't ever imagine that I—I mean _we _would ever want to leave…"

He watched her hesitate and he saw she wanted to finish the sentence with some word she just couldn't say. She smiled at him as sadly as he'd ever seen her smile, turned and walked away, as strange to him as always.

Watching her walk away he thought the two of them had miles to go before they slept. In every way. He'd really liked that poem he'd had to memorize when he was nine years old. Even as a little guy, he could feel it meant something bigger and maybe even about him as he repeated the words to his class. He hadn't thought about it in years.

He was driving back to his house when Quinn sent him a text with a link to a song and he loaded it.

He pulled over and listened. Of course, she knew he loved Elliott Smith.

I'll fake it through the day  
With some help from Johnny Walker Red.  
Send the poison rain down the drain  
To put bad thoughts in my head.

Two tickets torn in half  
And a lot of nothing to do.  
Do you miss me, Miss Misery  
Like you say you do?

A man in the park  
Read the lines in my hand,  
Told me I'm strong  
Hardly ever wrong

I said "man you mean you."

I had plans for both of us  
That involved a trip out of town  
To a place I'd seen in a magazine  
That you'd left lying around.

I don't have you with me but  
I keep a good attitude.  
Do you miss me, Miss Misery  
Like you say you do?

I know you'd rather see me gone  
Than to see me the way that I am,  
But I am in the life in a way.

Next door the TV's flashing  
Blue frames on the wall.  
It's a comedy of errors, you see.  
It's about taking a fall.

To vanish into oblivion  
Is easy to do.  
And I try to be but you know me  
I come back when you want me to.  
Do you miss me, Miss Misery  
Like you say you do?

It was painfully true about how he felt helping them leave but he suddenly realized, which felt like a hot sharp spear jabbing into his chest, that it was really more about her and _that_ was what she couldn't say. A sort of goodbye that meant she'd miss him, didn't want him gone and would always come back if he needed her. She'd said it the way she could even though he knew she'd be the same dismissive bitch she always was with him the next day.

He didn't text her. He called her. She didn't say hello. He could hear by just the sound of her breath on the line that she felt she'd exposed herself too much.

He said as brightly as he could, "Great song, Q. I'll bring those foul vegan donuts Rach likes to the breakfast tomorrow."

She didn't answer for what seemed like forever but finally said in a leaden voice, "Okay. But I meant it. The song, I mean."

He bit the inside of one cheek until it actually bled so he wouldn't cry and answered in a happy voice, which was completely the opposite of what he was feeling. "Yeah, I know. Are you sure you're still vegan, hot stuff?"

She heard the pain in his voice but sounded profoundly relieved he was faux coming on to her and wasn't going to make anything a big deal as she replied, "Completely sure."

He smiled and she could somehow hear that as she replied, "Your loss, as you know."

"Only under the influence of wine coolers. Burn notice."

He really smiled and she could hear that too. "Yeah and ouch. Fine. I'm glad you're Team Vegan if that's how you gotta roll."

"Me too."

"So then? Tomorrow, girl, the Puckster is leading all of you the fuck out of this one-horse town. Get some rest because we two got some driving to do and all sorts of emo parentals to deal with tomorrow."

"Okay. You too."

"Thanks again for letting me drive the truck—letting me get my Mack on in another way."

Quinn sounded suddenly herself again as her voice lightened, "Can you imagine Rachel driving that truck?"

Puck smiled again, "Hell yeah I can. It'd be hot Jewish trucker mama spank bank action except for the fact her feet wouldn't reach the pedals."

"Correct about the pedals but you're a pig."

"Always. Right and goodnight, Quinn."

"Goodnight to you, too."

He stayed on the side of the road in his truck and looked out at the night sky. He and Quinn both felt angry and guilty with each other for so many reasons. But his daughter's mother had thought enough about him to tell him, in her way, that she loved him as she was leaving him. He played the song twice more, crying as he only ever had the day they'd given Beth away and tasting blood in his mouth for the same reason. He sat in silence for a while and then wiped his nose and eyes on one shirt sleeve so he could smile for his mom and little sister. He shaved his Mohawk off for the trip. Time to be a grown-up.

**Two Days Before D-Day**

The night before Santana had sent Rachel a text demanding a private morning face-to-face. The way she'd worded it slightly alarmed Rachel because she said not to tell the others. Rachel sent an acknowledgment but the message had sounded like old Santana. _Her_ Santana would have just called and said she was coming over.

As she opened the door to a very fierce face, Rachel asked immediately, "Did I do something wrong I don't know about?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Of course you didn't. I just gots to talk to you about Juilliard."

Rachel led the way to her room, took a seat on her bed and pointed at her desk chair for Santana, who whirled it around so they were face to face.

Santana looked so ferocious that Rachel spoke first. "Don't worry, Santana. I'll take care of Brittany, if that's what this is about."

Santana threw her hands up in the air. "Please. Like I don't know that. She'll be taking the one taking care of you, by the way, but I know by now you're a tiny fucking storm trooper, hobbs. I wouldn't trust my baby with anyone but you, Quinn and Puck. That's a compliment, in case it's so early you haven't had your case of morning Red Bull or whatever the fuck it is that makes you _you _yet."

"I understood and appreciate the compliment, Santana, but I'm naturally caffeinated, thank you."

Santana narrowed her eyes, "See? I know that about you so every time I see you drink coffee I know you're clinically hyperactive. Coffee calms you down, doesn't it? It does with most hyperactive kids. Good on you for not taking prescription medication for your condition."

Rachel's eyes popped wide and she stamped the floor with one foot. "I resent that! How _dare_ you say I'm hyperactive! Or that I have a…a _condition_!"

Santana snorted her laughter. "You're so easy, Rach. You're not just a pony; you're exactly like a puppy. You scratch a puppy in the right place and you get the little leg kick."

Rachel scowled balefully because perhaps that was maybe probably true. "Please tell me why you've called this meeting unless it was merely to insult me. If that was the purpose, you've achieved it."

Santana smiled at her. "Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. You're completely hyper-something but I _was_ just teasing you."

The smile vanished from her face. "I have something to say I think you need to hear before we go to New York, okay?"

Rachel saw that Santana was suddenly very intensely serious so she answered quietly, "Okay."

"You're going to Juilliard, Rachel. _Juilliard._ New York City. Every person who's there is insanely talented and worked their asses off to get there, right?"

Rachel nodded. "I know that."

"I know you think you know that but you really don't. I know you'll take care of Brittany but my baby actually lets all the shit that flies at her run off her like water off a duck's back. And isn't that apropos? Got me?"

Rachel nodded again.

"You're about to hit a school filled with nothing but divas and divos, hobbs. If you thought high school was tough, think again. Now you won't be just rising above and ignoring stupid, petty high school bullshit. You'll be fighting people who want your spot at the big shiny apple in the Big Apple. All of them will be great, hobbs. They couldn't be there if they weren't. You've always been not just the big fish in our Lima pond. You've been a beached whale doing your best to breathe and thrashing around in a place that's obvs too small for you."

Santana pointed at her and said with quiet ferocity, "They'll use that against you, Rach. But way worse than that, you'll use it against yourself in your mind. I know you like I know the back of my hand. It'll suddenly hit you that—_ruh roh_—other people can sing as well as I can."

She rolled her chair closer to Rachel.

"That does not fucking matter. Not one bit. I don't care how fucking great anyone else is, _you_ are _going_ to be who you've always said you would be. They are not you. Even if, and this is fucking impossible to imagine, one or two of them can sing you under a park bench, they are not _you_. No matter what they sound like, _you're_ the special one. You _will _be the star. You will."

Rachel blinked at the ferocity in Santana's brown eyes although the girl's voice sounded only soft but determined.

"This is going to be the hardest part you'll ever play in your life. You've faced opposition that was just vicious stupid school-kid bullshit. Even with all this Glee stuff, you've always known you're the best. You've never faced artistic opposition—not really. At Juilliard, you are going to get artistic slushies, Rach, and I just want you to be ready for them."

Santana wheeled closer so they were knee to knee and jabbed at the air with her left index finger.

"Do not for one second believe that someone else's fantastic performance or some jealous dipshit's critique of your performance is anything but just another forty ounces of fucked up frozen corn syrup in your face. Walk down the halls of that school like it doesn't matter. Just like grade school, middle school and high school. You got into this insanely impressive place because you worked and deserve to be there but it's just another fucking school, Rachel. Learn what you can, take the true bumps and lumps you need but don't let even one word from some fuckity fuck get you down, okay?"

She put one hand on Rachel's knee.

"Me and Quinn and Brittany and Kurt and Mercedes and Puck and your parents and everyone you've ever fucking gifted with your presence and the sound of your voice know exactly who and what you are and most of us are badass so you should keep that in mind."

Rachel nodded but had started to cry. Santana took her hand off Rachel's knee and gently wiped her tears.

"Long story short and I know it's too late to say that? Don't second-guess yourself, midge. You never have yet so don't start in New York. Only _you_ can undermine your confidence. If anyone else tries to tear you down from outside, I know you can handle it. If you could say 'talk to the hand' to me and Q for ten years and you certainly and irritatingly did, you can do anything. But if you ever, ever can't, just please tell us and me and Britts and Q will handle it for you and what's left of whoever we can send home to her or his parents in a business-sized envelope."

Rachel laughed through her tears. "Thank you."

"No thanks needed. I just wanted you to know if you get there and suddenly feel like you're just one of hundreds of super-talented bozos, you're not. You won't ever be. Even if they sing you to death, you're so much more special in the best possible way than a zillion of anyone ever and that includes the fuckheads at Juilliard. Okay?"

"Okay." Rachel smiled a watery real smile, not a show smile, and said again. "Thank you."

Santana waved one hand, "Please. Thank me when you win your Tony. Some of these other bitches at your school and yeah I count the boys in that—they might win a Tony but no one will win it before you do. I promise. And that officially ends a pretty nauseating round of emo crap before I've had nowhere near enough coffee."

Rachel launched herself into a power hug with the girl, who spluttered, "The fuck? Get off me, midget! I can't ever say any sorta reasonable-ass shit without your being all…aw_ man_." Even as she held her, frightened as she was for her hobbit, so much more tightly than Rachel was holding her.

**At The Same Time**

Brittany had, without any announcement, suddenly appeared on Quinn's doorstep. Quinn was in her Team Berry sweatshirt and sleep shorts and had just taken her first wincing sip of coffee. She knew it would take an entire lifetime to get used to the taste of soy milk in coffee instead of cow milk. Going vegan was still rough after two years. The doorbell rang and she went to the front door, looked through the peep-hole, then opened the door. "Hi Britts. What's—are you okay?"

Brittany smiled at her a little sadly. "Yeah—sorry it's so early."

"No worries—come in. Where's San?"

Brittany followed her into the kitchen as she replied, "She's at Rachel's house, I think."

Quinn turned to look at her friend, "What do you mean you think?"

Brittany shrugged, "She said she had to go do something important this morning. And I'm here with you and she's not so it has to be Rach, right?"

Quinn poured a second cup of coffee, put enough real milk in it that it wouldn't be too hot, added one lump of sugar, stirred it and handed it to Brittany.

"Thanks."

They sat at the kitchen table. Judy was at a Realtors' breakfast meeting so they had the house to themselves.

"What do you think was so important San would get up so early?"

Brittany took a sip of coffee and said, "I think she probably went over to be nice to Rachel."

"What do you mean?"

Brittany faintly smiled at her cup and then up at Quinn, "She didn't tell me anything but sometimes when she doesn't say stuff I know a lot more than when she says stuff, you know?"

Quinn smiled at that because she knew exactly what the girl meant about their best friend.

"I think she's worried about Rach being a freshman again because that sorta sucked for her, right?"

Quinn bit her lip but nodded.

"And you know San—she's crazy nervous about me but—sort of—in a way, she knows I can take care of myself, like physically obviously but also I don't care so much what people say about me. She's always cared way more than I do about what people say to me or about me and she's sort of been having to grow up about that for a really long time but it's going to take forever maybe. I thought about you guys last night in bed but not in a sexy way." She winked at Quinn, who smiled at her.

"I think she's scared maybe Rach will hear all those talented kids at school and feel bad."

"Why?"

Brittany tilted her head as if it were obvious. "Because she's never had to compete against people who could beat her, Q. Ever ever. She's always just opened her mouth and won. I mean, I think this is like the first time Rachel will hear some kids her age can sing just as well as she can. Or maybe even better. It won't matter because I totes know Rach will be a big star but it'll hyper matter to her if she lets it."

Brittany saw the stricken look on Quinn's face at the thought of that and patted her hand, "Don't worry. And don't say stuff to Rach about it. I think San went to fix it because she'll say lots of bad words and act bossy and monster San and Rach can take it that way. You can't fix it because if you thought about it, you'd be way too nice and it would be like you felt sorry for her."

She shrugged.

"I think San will tell Rach she needs to get ready and get her stuff together in a sort of I love you but I'll smack you or smack people for you in a way you can't. She loves Rach so much that when she's acting all fierce with her, it's sort of like she's the spoonful of sugar that makes the medicine go down "I think you totes know that being mean with you or Rach really means being nice."

"Absolutely."

Brittany smiled. "Good. The next thing is I wanted to ask you a favor—that's why I came over while San was all stealth-mode."

"Okay."

"I know you know San's been taking care of me forever and you know why but I think you know I sort of take care of her too."

Quinn nodded and gave Brittany a soft smile. "I do know that."

Brittany sighed and returned a nervous smile. "I just wanted to ask you to take care of her and sort of go easy on her because she's going to be super annoying for a while when you get to Columbia. She'll be crazy hyper protective with you because she won't have me and Rach to do it for. It's going to make you feel completely bananas but just please don't be mean about it, okay? She can't help it. She really can't."

Quinn thought of the horror of Santana's hyper-vigilance for Brittany and Rachel visited solely upon herself and whispered aloud, "Oh, _fuck."_

Brittany gave her a sad sort of nod and said, "Sorta. Yeah."

Quinn took a huge pull at her coffee. "Why do I now wish there were liquor in this?"

"I know. But I'm saying this for real. Please watch for an eight-pack until she settles down. It might be a few months and I know that's a long time."

Quinn took a deep breath and said, "You got it. Promise I'll take care of your girl. Just take care of mine. We shellfish have to stick together."

Brittany suddenly flashed a delighted, luminous smile. "I know you have bagels, Q. Let's make them and put stuff on them and send a picture to San and Rach and say something like 'We don't know what you're doing but _we're _bumping bagels!'"

Quinn stifled her delight. She'd always almost violently loved Brittany. She stood to hug her as she laughed, "That'll teach 'em!"

"Right?"

**D-Day sucked. Everyone cried. Everyone.**

The male parents wept in very male ways as they helped Puck load the truck. The female parents wept openly and hugged their grown-up babies. Eric and Jacob wiped their eyes as Puck pulled the gate down on the truck. Their babies were leaving. It was a swarm of parental activity.

Rachel smiled at her fathers through her tears. "It's not like I'm leaving forever."

Jacob kissed her and, "Sorry to tell you this, sweetheart. Growing up _is_ forever. But we, Judy and the Lopez and Pierce family will always be here for all of you. You're adults now but you'll never stop being our kids. Drive safely and call us along the way, okay?"

"Okay."

Eric surprised Quinn by pulling her away from the crowd and pointing a finger in her face, although his voice was soft. "Remember this, Quinn Fabray. You are _loved_. You are _lovable._ You have a mother who loves you and a fierce little Jewish father who loves you. I love Jake more than I even like myself but you and I are Wonder Twins so I think you'd always try to protect him while he was trying to protect you."

Quinn half-laughed a nod as tears welled in her eyes.

"He'd give his life for you but please just call him if you need the feelings. If you need the action, never think you ever have to fight your own battles. I'm your father and as long as I'm alive, I'm only a phone call away, okay? My baby girl knows that cold. You need to remember to take that for granted. Jake and I are seeing two daughters off. Don't doubt that. Rachel is our life but you're our life, too. As long as we're alive, we'll stand between you and the world in our two different ways, okay?"

Quinn smiled up at him. _This_ was what it felt like to have a father.

She only said, "Okay."

Puck thought, as he watched the impending departure that they'd had as many tears and huggage as packed luggage.

When they'd finally made the laborious tour from Ohio to Eastern Pennsylvania, Rachel marched to the back of the truck and said, "We have our travel necessities in the back of the truck, as I instructed. Noah, you have two additional presents you will need to bring up to our room."

Puck had, indeed, loaded what seemed like endless boxes for Rachel. He'd unquestioningly loaded two boxes wrapped in gift paper and thought they were for Quinn.

After they booked in and situated themselves in their two queen sized bed hotel room. Puck knew he'd be sleeping on the floor and hadn't minded. Rachel announced, "These are presents from me to you, Noah! Open them!"

He scrabbled through the paper and found things he couldn't quite understand.

Rachel took over and unboxed a single air mattress and blew it up with its included AC air pump.

Out of the next box, she pulled out brown sheets, a single duvet and a pillow she'd sheathed in a matching brown pillow case. She smiled triumphantly. "I bought this for you, Noah! When you come visit us at either campus as often as you can, you'll always have a bed. I chose brown bedding because it matches your eyes and it's a very manly color. It will deflate to its original size and keeping the bedding will be nothing in either dorm rooms. Do you like it?"

He bit the now swollen inside of one cheek again and the other girls, who were as surprised as he was, smiled. Smiled at him in agreement with Rachel's gesture. He smiled back at them and hugged his Jew.

They splurged and called in for vegan and real pizza and watched a Twilight movie they'd all seen before.

Santana sat through about fifteen minutes before she said. "I repeat, this is about the worst written shit I've ever heard or watched in my life."

Quinn agreed, "You can't even really watch it if you listen to what they're saying. You can, however, watch the pretty."

Brittany shrugged, "Right? Kristen's always sort of looked super gay."

Puck nodded, "No lie? If I was desperate in prison and Rob was in my cell-block, I'd hit that if he'd let me. I mean, I'd never force a brotha."

Santana cackled at that, "Not Taylor?"

Puck took a pull at the Coke he was drinking because he had to drive the next day. "The fuck? No way. I'm Team Edward. He's prettier."

Santana cackled and gave a five up high to Puck, who returned it. Rachel finally interjected, "Can we please watch this movie without sexually objectifying the lead characters?"

Quinn squeezed Rachel's left hand. "That's the complete purpose of the books and these movies, angel."

Rachel sighed because she knew it was true. She'd read fifty pages of the first novel and had given up.

They watched and had a great time snarking through the rest of it.

Puck was almost asleep on his air mattress from heaven when he felt a small, soft hand petting his stubbly shaved head. It was Rachel's. She whispered, "I bought the bed and other things because I knew we'd always want you with us any time you could be. Especially me. Thank you for coming with us, Noah."

"Thank _you_, Rachel. And you're very welcome."

None of them were really asleep. The rest of them heard this, agreed silently, smiled and closed their eyes.

Columbia. Nice. Most of the kids had evidently moved in the day before, on the first day possible. There were tons of kids milling around wearing a sort of 'I still can't believe I live here' look. As they opened their door and walked in, they saw their two suite-mates' door was open and they were working on putting a framed picture on the wall. They immediately stopped their work and came out to introduce themselves.

They smiled as a tall and willowy, adorably soft spoken girl said "I'm Lakshmi Desai and I'm from no place anyone's heard of in Maine."

The other girl was about Santana's height and had a pleasant face but was much less soft spoken, "Lisa Henderson, San Fran, C.A."

Quinn smiled. "Well, isn't that interesting? Someone from the East Coast and someone from the West Coast. I'm Quinn Fabray." She pointed at Santana. "Santana Lopez. We're your new roommates from the Midwest. Somewhere no one's ever heard of either. Lima, Ohio, to be exact. Between the four of us, we've evidently got America covered."

Lakshmi asked, "You're from the same place? That's strange. How did that happen? Did you know each other before?"

Santana waved her hand at their group. "Luck of the draw, Lak. We've all known each other since we were six years old. These other two ladies are, respectively, my wife Brittany."

Brittany gave a little wave.

"And Quinn's partner, Rachel. So yeah, we're Lesbians and completely out about that but we're all hooked up so no need for gay panic on your part."

She pointed, "This man is our guy Friday, Noah. He's our best guy friend and single if you're looking."

Noah smiled at them in a way that made Quinn roll her eyes before turning to her new roommates, "Santana and I look forward to getting to know you. I can assure you that you'll find us quiet, reasonable and amenable to everything we might have to schedule vis a vis the bathroom facilities after we unpack. Whenever it's convenient for all of us, of course. We're unloading our things into our room but we'll unpack after we take Brittany and Rachel's stuff to Juilliard."

The other girls blinked.

Quinn smiled at them and shrugged. "I know, right? We're all only smart enough to get into the Ivy League. They're just smart and really talented."

Puck smiled at the ladies again. The Indian one was hot. Quinn kicked him gently in the shin and he focused. Moving in. Right.

Juilliard's housing was a little bit more awe-inspiring, given its location. They took the elevator to their floor and Quinn sort of felt like she needed one of those kid leash-tether things to keep Rachel from rising into the air. Brittany merely took it in, blinking rapidly. When they got to their suite, Rachel beamed and used her key. They walked into their living space, where every one of their suite-mates was eating pizza.

One girl with a very kind face waved from one of the couches. "I guess at least two of you are our last suite-mates. Hi! I'm Julie. Oboe."

The rest only introduced themselves by instrument.

"Janet. French horn."

"Lucia. Voice."

"Katherine. Cello."

"Monica. Piano.

"Marie. Clarinet."

Rachel smiled at them. Now she knew what Santana had meant. Scarily competitive and really real musicians.

She show smiled. "I'm very pleased to meet you. I'm Rachel Berry. Voice." She swept an arm toward Brittany who saw the slightly anxious look on Rachel's face and said, "I'm Brittany Pierce-Lopez. Dance. I guess I'll be the only jock in the suite."

Rachel beamed at Brittany as she introduced the others. "This is Santana, Brittany's wife, my partner Quinn and our best friend Noah. It's nice to meet you all. We're sorry to interrupt your meal. Please ignore us."

Julie said, "You're welcome to join us if you want."

Rachel smiled at her, "That's very kind of you, Julie, but Quinn, Santana and Noah want to help us unpack and set our room up before we come back set up theirs."

Puck smiled at the pizza-eating musicians. "I'm not going to Columbia or Juilliard. I'm the hired help except they aren't paying me anything but the opportunity to meet some fine talented women."

Rachel stamped one foot, "Noah!"

Quinn pulled him by one ear and he laughed as she did it, "Don't listen to one word this man says, ladies. Nice to meet you."

They all left the room to go back to the truck but Brittany stayed behind, claiming she needed to use the restroom.

She didn't.

She smiled at everyone enjoying their pizza and said, "I'm super glad to get to meet you but I have to tell you something while I'm by myself. All the people you just met have known each other and Rach since we were six. You'll have to get used to her because she talks a lot and she's a little loud but she's bizarro talented and totally the nicest person ever. You'll have to get used to me too and you'll see why soon enough, okay? I'm easy to live with and I'm not loud or crazy so don't worry. Just don't make a big deal about what you think of me after a few hours or days."

Brittany smiled, "I know you're super smart musicians but don't even make your faces _look _what you might think about me in front of Rach, okay? She'll talk to you until you want to die if you do that."

The other girls only_ looked_ mystified. Brittany smiled. "I promise you'll know what I mean soon. Just don't roll your eyes at me or make fun of me at all unless Rachel isn't here. I promise I won't care if it's just me and you guys but don't do it in front of Rachel or totally especially Santana or Quinn if they visit. Because it'll seriously be the end of days if you say or even look something mean about me in front of them, okay? You don't even know. Be mean to me if you have to because I'm Teflon but do it privately or it'll suck for you guys like you can't put your minds around if you do it in front of them."

They all took a moment to put their minds around this strangely mysterious and ominous warning from this new fairly tall, amazingly fit and prettily sweet-looking yet earnest blue-eyed girl. Even though they had no idea what she meant or what they were really agreeing to, they all looked at each other and nodded at her.

Brittany smiled again, "Great! Thanks and sorry but I wanted you guys to have the heads up about me. My friends are super crazy protective. You'll know why soon."

It was like planting and grooming the gardens of Versailles. All of them wanted to shoot themselves as Rachel unpacked. They all nodded dutifully as Rachel lowered her brows and made decisions. Santana wanted to both strangle and hug Rachel as she worked. Quinn and Puck just did manual labor because they weren't fools. Rachel was wildly assiduous about Brittany's space. Brittany just nodded. Whatever.

When it was finally what Rachel wanted it to be, all of them took a deep breath.

Rachel said, "I think this is good for now."

"Totally," Brittany agreed.

"Wonderful," Quinn said.

Santana only shook her head in the positive until Quinn punched her in the arm. Then she said, "Awesome."

Puck said, "I get top bunk on top of my blow up doll when I visit."

"Pig."

"Whatever, mother of my child."

Everyone smiled. No baby mama anymore.

They were all growing up.

Sort of.

They returned to Columbia and it took a lot less time to set up Quinn and Santana's little room.

Santana looked at the room and at Quinn. "Not bad."

Quinn nodded at her.

Rachel beamed. She'd helped. A lot. "It's very you two."

Brittany nodded and smiled, knowing they were all sort of afraid to say anything because maybe that would make Rachel change stuff.

Puck wasn't afraid. He approved, "It's not too girly."

"Of course it isn't. We're not girly, bitch."

"You sorta are, San, except for all the punching and giving me a concussion and stitches part. But, Q? The continuous mind-fuck thing we always got going on is _totally_ girly."

Quinn smiled up at him. "I like to think I have a feminine side. I'm gratified you can acknowledge yours."

He just rolled his eyes and kissed her on the cheek.

When he was ready to leave, in front of their rental car he'd drive back to Ohio, he scrubbed his shaven head with his hands as tears filled his eyes. "I'm not saying goodbye because this isn't goodbye. We're just gonna be in different places. I'll call you when I get back."

He hugged Santana tightly. "Try to keep the co-eds and eds off you, hot stuff."

He laughed when Brittany actually picked him up and spun him around. "Never change, Britts. I love you."

Brittany hugged him tightly and said, "We love you back."

Rachel burst into tears as she bonked her head on his chest and hugged him. He sort of wanted to squeeze her forever but settled on saying, "Don't cry, Jew. I'll be trading lunches with you on Broadway next time I visit."

Quinn put both hands on his head and leaned up to kiss him on his forehead. He looked at her for a long few moments and made the sign of a cross on her forehead with one thumb.

He smiled at her, leaned in for a hug and whispered, "I'm a Jew but I looked it up. I can bless you. I bless you all but especially you. Always you."

She hugged him tightly and punched him lightly as they disengaged from the hug.

When they'd watched him leave and waved until he was no longer visible, Santana heaved a deep sigh and said, "That sucked massive sweaty hairy donkey balls. But don't tell him I said that."

Quinn barked out a laugh, "No worries. That imagery will make us try furiously to forget you even just said that."

Rachel said, "I don't think I even _heard _that."

Brittany nodded, "Right?"

Two days into the first week, Rachel didn't really know what to do about or with these uber-talented suite-mate artists around her, so she arranged a 'roommate' recital so they could, as she put it, all the more fully understand each others' talents. She'd sweetened the deal by arranging refreshments after their performances.

Except for Brittany, they were all, in their own ways, divas so they agreed.

There was a recital room on every floor, complete with a Steinway. Rachel booked it and they'd gathered on their first Wednesday evening together.

As the musicians they lived with played their instruments, one after another, Brittany and Rachel sat spellbound. Art. Real and true art. Both of them cried as they listened to every one of their performances. All of them were incredible. They couldn't believe they'd been gifted with living with such musical artists.

They were finally blown away by Lucia, who was an operatic vocalist and was so talented that Rachel was not only jealous but felt uplifted hearing such talent.

She stood as she clapped, "Brava, Lucia! Brava!"

Lucia smiled at her and bowed.

Brittany said, "Wow. I guess it's my turn. You guys are all so the bomb it's not even real. Thanks for letting us hear you play and sing. It's been like tuning in to Radio Heaven."

Rachel smiled.

Brittany plugged in her iPOD docking station. "I'm not as talented as you are but I'll try to show you something. I'll have to sort of improvise because it's actually a duet in RL."

She started the music for _Me against the Music_ and the other girls could scarcely believe it. They all almost laughed. Seriously? Britney Spears? And then Brittany danced. And sang.

She effortlessly destroyed the dance and they saw she was what they were not. She was not only astonishingly talented but actually cool. And not even breathless as she finished and smiled at them.

"I'm a different kind of artist than you guys. My body's my instrument. To be as good as you are, I know you guys must have been training since you were kids because I've been training my instrument since I was five."

They all clapped for her in varying degrees of complete consternation. Brittany pointed at Rachel. "Rach has been training since she was four." She tousled Rachel's hair and held up her iPod, "I gotcha, Rach. Hit it."

Rachel smiled at her audience. "You're all so magnificent I can't begin to tell you. I'll do my best."

Brittany started the music. Rachel didn't do her best. She slammed _Don't Rain on My Parade_ right out of the park and right down all of the others' collective throats.

The musicians in the group hoped they'd all, at the very least, have jobs in symphonies. Lucia hoped to be a traveling opera diva.

They didn't even know what to think about Brittany's talent but knew with one song there was only one true star among them.

Brittany knew it, too, and smiled at the look on their shocked faces. Mission accomplished. She said, "Let's go get some real and vegan pizza. And veggie snacks and salads because Rach said we can't all just live on pizza. Thanks you guys so much for playing and singing for us. I mean, you guys are crazy amazing and classical but we're really different. We're obvs not as talented as you are but I hope you won't hold that against us."

That was a literal acknowledgement of their talent but such a backhanded slap in their faces Rachel couldn't believe Brittany had actually voiced it.

She hugged Brittany. Everything would be okay.

The first and only ass-kicking in Columbia was the first Thursday night. People were partying so loudly at the end of the hall that Santana and Quinn wanted to kill themselves. They finally marched down the hall at 1:30AM in their sweatshirts and sleep shorts.

Santana shouted above the music, "People! I have to go to an 8 o'clock class tomorrow! Q does too. Would you please dial this shit down? We understand we're all sharing a living space and we're trying to accommodate your adolescence by wearing ear plugs and slamming pillows over our heads but when we can still hear you through all that and two doors, it's seriously not cool."

A girl named Tricia, who was really way too drunk, shouted right back, "You guys aren't our moms, bitches."

Some of the other girls laughed.

Quinn immediately put a hand on Santana's shoulder to stop her reaction before shouting over the music, "Obviously we're not because you'd have been raised to be more polite. We won't call the RA but if you want a couple of thugs instead, you just dialed the right number. Tone it down on school nights, ladies. Fridays and Saturdays, we'll just ignore you or go rent a hotel room."

Santana wanted to go so ballistic she had to count to ten as she unplugged the party iPOd's docking station from the wall, to the vocal dismay of the other girls.

Quinn put her hands on her hips. "That? _That_ was Santana being nice. If I let her off her chain, that iPOD would be in pieces after she threw it against a wall. Enjoy your party. Enjoy your music but just dial it down a little so you don't all have to scream at each other above the music and we two can sleep. I don't think that's too much to ask."

Tricia said, "Hotel room? Oh right. Fuck you, lesbos."

Quinn rushed to grab a suddenly raging Santana off the ground, which frightened not just Tricia but all of the girls present.

Santana took deep breaths and settled down as Quinn released her. Santana pointed at the girl.

"See that, Tricia? My cap just kept me from fucking you up. Don't think I won't slap a bitch to sleep if she needs it. I don't play. As for the whole Lesbo thing?" She looked around the room. "You know what's a little strange here? All you fine straight ladies or closet cases are havin' an all girl par-tay."

"We can have male visitors, right? Why don't I see lotsa hot guys all up in here tryin' to spring your fine fresh young Ivy League asses?" She waved her pimp hand dismissively at the young women. **"**Where all your men at, straight girls?"

She smiled wolfishly at them. "Yes. I'm a Lesbian. I'm even a married Lesbian—but I promise you if I walked through any frat on this fucking campus I could snap my fingers once and I'd bring all the boys to the yard because I'm hotter than every single fucking one of you. And wait for it? Look at Q. Yeah. She's a Lesbian, too. Huh. Not one of you would exist for any guy on this whole damned planet if she just batted her eyelashes at him once. Believe it. To get back to our original point, you wouldn't think my bestie actually needs her beauty sleep when you all need it so much more than she does, wouldja?"

Quinn hated hearing that but she'd always stand by Santana to make a point.

"Oh, I don't know about that, San. I'm tired so I'm obviously not at my best." Quinn smiled her Miss Perfect at them, the one smile in her repertoire she hated the most because she knew she'd look like a complete angel. Because, as usual, she truly was the most beautiful girl in the room. By far.

She continued to smile angelically as she said, "I know it's fun to feel adult because you're finally free of parental control and living on your own but, as someone who had myself declared an emancipated minor at age fifteen, I can tell you feeling adult isn't the same thing as being an adult nor is it an excuse to act like a child. I know it'll be a shock for you but other people actually do exist. Santana and I have paid to stay here and deserve respect if we want to sleep on nights before early classes. As San said, Friday and Saturday, burn the dorm down if you want. But if Santana and I have to go to school the next day, by all means play music and dance and have fun and drink until you throw up your lungs. We don't care. But keep a reasonable lid on it. This isn't a request. It's a demand. Come here, Tricia."

Tricia walked toward her unsteadily, too drunk to walk but not too drunk to try to face this girl down. Quinn smiled at her. "You're Miss Ivy League, Tricia. Good for you. And aren't you smart saying fuck you to us and calling us Lesbos and telling us we're bitches?"

Quinn stepped into the girl's personal space. "Fuck you? You wish and not in a million years. The Lesbian thing's true. The bitch thing? Two for two. You called it right. You don't have to say one more word to me while I tolerate your existence on this floor but you have no idea what kind of bitch I am. Don't push me because I'll show you. Unlike Santana, I'd never do anything to you physically but I could say things to you that you and nobody else would ever forget."

She pulled a startled Tricia to her by her shirt and the girl was too drunk to do anything about it. Quinn shelled one of her ears with a hand and whispered very quickly, "I can see just _looking _at you that your mom's a drunk and you never had a daddy because he didn't care enough about either of you to stick around. I think you're an only child and you've really done a fucking hat trick to get here on scholarship. You're smart but you should be smarter than trying to call me out. Act like it. Stop drinking because it's poison for you and it will never make you prettier or more interesting to anybody but idiots. This is my one fair warning. Don't make me hurt you publicly. I don't want to but I can and I will."

Tricia gulped as Quinn released her. Everything Quinn had said was absolutely and frighteningly true. She shrugged and tried to sound tough as she said, "Yeah, guys, we should probably tone it down a little for these losers who can't party like we do."

Quinn smiled at that. Saving face. Fair enough. Quinn pointed at Tricia. "I'm serious about what I said."

Tricia nodded, "I know."

"Do what I said or you'll be your mother before you know it." She smiled sweetly at the rest of the room knowing no one but Tricia would understand what she meant, "And who the hell wants to be their mom, right?"

The rest of the girls laughed uneasily. Santana plugged the iPod docking station in, dialed the volume down to a still reasonable party level, turned it off and said, "My earplugs and a pillow over my head and two doors will drown this out. When we leave, party on, people. Sucks to be you that you got us on this floor. No worries, though. You'll find we're tough but fair. Just don't push us. I can promise you we have way better things to do than push any of you. L and L? Call us if you need a ride home down the hall, okay?" She winked at her suite-mates. "Night night!"

As they left, a girl named Karen said to Lakshmi and Lisa, "Sucks to be_ you_. You have to live with _them_? Who the fuck do they think they are?" Lisa secretly agreed with Karen but Lakshmi didn't.

Lakshmi had enjoyed the music and the camaraderie but was drinking ginger ale. She smiled at the other girls and said, "I have a feeling you should get used to it. If they're this way now, imagine what going to high school with them would have been like."

The girls all winced internally.

"They're both smart and nice and, believe it or not, entirely reasonable people. They stay completely out of my business and out of Lisa's. Lisa, choose for yourself and I'm so glad you're my roomie but I actually like Quinn and Santana. All of us live here and none of us own this floor. What have they done to any of us except ask us to turn the music down?"

None of the other girls could produce anything and Lakshmi nodded. She was an only child from a very small, rural town in Maine. She was shaking a little from talking in a bit of opposition to all these strangers but went to the iPOD docking station and turned the music back on for the party. It was as bold as she'd been since her parents had brought her to New York, which was like going to Mars from where she'd grown up.

She stayed at the party but found herself feeling more peaceful and more settled. She'd really tried not to let anyone see how frightened she was to be in this new place. Lisa was nice but she was outspoken and opinionated. As long as Quinn and Santana were around, Lakshmi felt like she had all the reinforcement she'd need.

From the moment she'd met her, Santana had immediately called her Lak. No one in her life had ever shortened her name into a nickname. Lakshmi liked it. In New York, she wasn't just the Indian oddity she was in her hometown. Santana had another weird name for an American girl and she was the first person who'd shown her life in this new school could be different.

Santana laughed as they made their way back to their room. "That was like old times. I'm sort of sorry you didn't let me pimp slap that Tricia bitch, though. That'd be a quick object lesson."

"She's too easy. It'd be like punching a puppy."

"A drunk, bitchy puppy with no redeeming qualities?"

"She's just dumb and scared and lonely, San."

"So she picks fights?"

Quinn stopped walking and looked at Santana, who had the grace to blush and laugh. "Okay—_damn._ Point taken." She smiled sheepishly as they continued to their room and shoulder bumped Quinn. "Really sorry I called you out about the whole pretty thing."

"Me too. But feel free when you need my pretty. You can bring the hot."

After they'd gone back to their beds and after an hour of insomnia, Santana said, "Can I sleep with you, pretty?"

"Sure, hot."

Quinn turned in the bed to hold Santana. Together, they slept like lambs.

* * *

**A/N Yes, Rachel's and Puck's 'I'm anxious' go-to song are the same. That was intentional. Of course, the poem Puck's thinking about is by Robert Frost.**


	93. Chapter 93

**Chapter One Disclaimers Apply. **

**Remember this story ended a long ago time ago in a galaxy far, far away. **

**Let's see what our girls are up to at…**

**Age 30**

**(And realize Inside the Actors' Studio is a long program very much edited to fit its time period on the students' questions portion.)**

It was a rare quiet morning. The children were at Puck and Girl Sam's house.

Quinn was reading her latest _Science_ magazine and shoveling a spoon of muesli with almond milk into her mouth when Santana plonked herself down into the chair next to her and said, "Outside of true death and destruction, what's the worst thing I could tell you?"

Quinn didn't look up from her magazine and chewed through, "Rachel's pregnant. Finn's the father."

Santana had to laugh. "Okay. Good answer. About that bad."

Quinn looked at Santana and immediately assessed it wasn't literally that bad—just figuratively that bad and for her specifically.

"Hit me."

"Inside the Actors Studio asked Rachel to be on the show last night."

Quinn was instantly delighted. "Really? That's so great! She'll love it! Why didn't she tell me!?"

Santana smiled a weak smile, peeled and broke a banana in half as she said, "You know they edit hours into 43 minutes, right? This would be a two hour special."

Quinn's jaw dropped. "Two _hours_? No way. By _herself?_ Only somebody like Tom Cruise or Elton John gets two hours."

Santana took a bite of banana, "Technically it'll probably edit into about 86 minutes if you do it with her. Operative words _if you do it with her_."

Quinn took that in and threw her magazine at the refrigerator and it bounced off without Santana flinching.

"You have to be kidding me."

"Nope."

"Did Rachel send you in to make me do it?"

Santana offered Quinn the other half of the banana and watched the woman accept it and tear a vicious bite out of it. Santana softened her voice, "Don't sell my midget short, Cap. She really didn't even want to tell you about it. I told her I'd do reconnaissance. She knew if she talked to you about it, you'd be looking down into her big brown eyes thinking 'Rachel wants to do it and now she won't get to because I've turned them down five times already. And now I'm feeling all guilt-beast because she has those pretty big brown eyes.'"

Santana waved one hand, "She didn't want to add herself to the equation. Think a little before you guys talk. Rachel Berry is fucking Ms. EGOT. She doesn't need you one damn bit to justify a show. They'll ask her again for just her. She was going to tell them to fuck off right away because they were totally using her as leverage for you. She knew that and even if she might want to be on that damn show, she really didn't like it, Q. And it wasn't even her being all diva about it and thinking 'Fuck them if they don't want me alone.'"

Santana patted Quinn's hand exactly once, which she knew was about the limit of what her best friend could take in this particular situation and continued, "I'm serious. It was only me that kept her from saying no right away. She had your back for _you_—not her ego. She was ready to protect you no matter what so finish your cereal, your fucking banana and drink your orange juice knowing our hobbs is getting to be a grown up I'm a little proud of." Santana took a savage bite of her own half of the banana and chewed around saying, "But don't tell the bish that."

Quinn chomped her banana and made a decision.

* * *

Rachel wasn't awake yet because she had two sleep-in-no-early-elliptical mornings every week. Quinn had made, at age 23, an executive decision that it was a healthy thing for her wife. Rachel had fussed and fumed about it for months. She'd scowled and grumbled before eventually accepting it. She secretly loved it. She not only got extra sleep but when Quinn bossed her around to show she loved her, it always sort of made her melt inside.

* * *

Quinn lay next to Rachel and gently shook one shoulder. "Rumble-puppy?"

Rachel's snoring became lighter…

"Rumble-puppy?"

Rachel continued to snore, having no idea Quinn had this nickname for her sleeping self. She never would.

"Rachel BARBRA!"

Rachel shot out of the bed like a cannon ball and looked around wildly. "What!? Is something wrong?"

Quinn smiled at her. "Nope. Breakfast time. San and I had ours an hour ago but Britts is almost finished making Irish oats for you guys. I hear we're on that fucking Actors Studio thing together."

Rachel shook her head. She was pleased about the oatmeal. Not so much the Actors Studio. "You don't have to."

Quinn shrugged, "They should be paying attention to you by yourself."

Rachel put a robe on over her t-shirt and sleep shorts. "I know that and they will. It's not like they're not going to ask me again. I don't care about when they do. You don't have to do it, Quinn."

Quinn sat up on the bed and lowered her head. "That's not fair to you, Rachel." She gripped fistfuls of their duvet.

"You think not doing it will be unfair to me?"

"Of course I do."

Rachel went to her nightstand, picked up her phone and Quinn rushed to stop her. "I can do it. I don't want to but I can."

"How much fun do you think it'll be for me knowing you're hating every second of our appearance?"

Quinn shrugged, "Whatever. I'll play nice. It's for the students, after all, isn't it?"

Rachel gauged the expression on Quinn's face. Quinn truly was a consummate actor, however self-deprecating she was in that regard. Quinn _looked_ sincere, so Rachel answered, "After all the self-aggrandizing things everyone says, I suppose it is. Yes."

Quinn shrugged, "Then tell them we'll do it."

* * *

James Lipton had not been touched harshly by his advanced age. In fact he seemed, like Dick Clark, he'd reached a certain age and had just decided to stay there.

"Our guests tonight have a unique pedigree for many reasons. Our first is an Oscar winner, three time SAG Award winner, four time Golden Globe winner, three time AFI winner, three time Emmy Award winner. She is currently nominated for an Oscar, Golden Globe, SAG and AFI award for her latest film, _News of the Fall._ Quinn Fabray."

Quinn strode out in black slacks and heels, a white silk blouse threaded with a faint ivy print and a man's black leather biker's jacket. Her eye make-up was very smoky and her chin-length hair was deliberately, perfectly choppy and messy. She gave James an air kiss, smiled enchantingly at the audience and clapped back at the audience clapping for her. She looked completely delighted to be there although she seemed a bit bewildered by the four chairs on stage. She sat at the second chair away from him.

He said, "Next, we have a two-time Tony Winner, Oscar Winner, three time Emmy Winner and six time Grammy winner. She is the youngest competitive EGOT winner ever. I frankly can't list the other awards she's won because she asked me not to. Rachel Berry!"

Rachel walked out in black skinny jeans and a dark turquoise cashmere v-neck sweater which matched her flats. Her make-up was completely luminous and she'd had her hair curled so that it made ringlets that cascaded just above her shoulders. She'd dressed down for Quinn and Quinn knew it.

She air-kissed James and show-smiled, waving happily at the crowd. She, too, looked surprised by the seating but knew Quinn had meant the closest chair to be saved for her. She moved it slightly so it was touching Quinn's chair before she took her seat.

He continued, "We have billed this appearance as a discussion of the lives and careers of Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry as I believed it would be. Yet you see four chairs. Early this morning we were informed that they'd be joined on stage by two other people whose lives and careers are inextricably linked with theirs and for whom I've had no time to prepare. Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce-Lopez."

Quinn's and Rachel's mouths dropped open. The audience cheered wildly because it was too cool to be true.

Santana popped out in black skinny jeans, a dark blue fitted chamois sweater and neon blue Doc Martens boots. Her weave was fierce and her make-up accentuated her kohl-brown eyes. She air-kissed James and waved at the audience before taking the third chair. Brittany strode out in black Levis, a white fisherman's sweater and black and white wingtip shoes. Because she was wearing only the simplest of eye make-up, she looked five years younger than the others. She did the air kiss for James, then kissed Rachel, Quinn and Santana on their cheeks before taking her seat.

James sat for a second and lifted his cards. "Welcome. I must acknowledge I feel like I've been hijacked but we also have two other guests in the audience who are mic'ed and may weigh in at any time. "Kurt Hummel and Mercedes Jones."

Kurt and Mercedes were in the front row, stood briefly, smiled and waved as the audience clapped.

James looked at his audience. "As you know, I have a tremendous appreciation for music and dance. This show, however, is to be about Quinn and Rachel except with extra input. Would you tell us why, Santana, you announced that fact to our production staff this morning causing complete pandemonium, I might add?"

Santana nodded, "Yeah I know and I'm really sorry, Mr. Lipton, but we were all coming to watch anyway and I wasn't feeling good about it. We'll hijack the show to a degree but Quinn will talk so much more with us to you. I mean, she'd talk without us and be pleasant enough but she'd force you to defer to Rachel and you'd have to or this show would tank. Been knowing her 24 years so promise you that. If we talk a little, you'll get a better show. I'm actually doing you a huge favor by inconveniencing the hell out of you and your staff."

Quinn smiled a sick smile at James, "I didn't know she was doing this, Mr. Lipton. I truly apologize." She turned to Santana, "You're making me sound like a head-case."

Santana shrugged. "Your point?"

Quinn snorted but smiled. Rachel smiled warily as the audience laughed before saying, "Mr. Lipton. I'm so sorry. I didn't know either." She glared at Santana before turning back to him, "I would never be so unprofessional as to force another professional to improvise on such a tight schedule. Please, sir, focus on your research about Quinn and me. It can't help but have a lot about them."

He looked at the four of them. It actually was a tremendous coup to have them all together, something he nor his producers would have imagined they could pull off. Much less Mercedes and Kurt. He could feel the audience was absolutely thrilled by this and he had enough appreciation of theater and the stage to go with it. He decided to relax. "Very well. We start as we always do. At the beginning. Where were you born?"

Quinn said, "We were all born in Lima, Ohio."

"Who were your parents?"

Rachel beamed, "Eric and Jacob Berry. They wanted a child and their surrogate and my biological mother's name is Shelby Corcoran. I'm an only child. I consider Quinn's mother Judy Fabray the only mother I've ever had."

James looked to Quinn who said, "My biological parents are Judy and Russell Fabray. I have one sister and I'm the younger. I've been estranged from her through her choice since I was fifteen. Speaking of and if you're watching, Antoinette, that was your less than fifteen seconds of fame. I haven't called Russell Fabray my father since I was fifteen, when I took the steps to become a legally emancipated minor. I call him my sperm donor and he died three years ago. Judy Fabray is my mother and Rachel's fathers have been my fathers since I was sixteen."

The audience and the presenter could feel a sudden wave of frost coming off Quinn. Rachel smiled at her, took Quinn's hand and held it.

James turned to Rachel. "Where did you go to school?"

"Lima Grade School, William McKinley Junior High, William McKinley High, then Julliard with Brittany."

Quinn forced a quick defrost and added, "Same for me but Columbia for me and San instead of Juilliard for Rach and Britts. I don't think it's exactly a secret that I, Rachel, Santana, Brittany, Mike, Kurt and Mercedes all went to grade school, middle school and high school together."

James smiled. "So you all met in first grade?"

Quinn squeezed Rachel's hand and released it. "Yes."

"Do you remember meeting?"

Quinn hesitated and Santana took the ball. "I'd met Britts when we were three in preschool so when we went to first grade I was sort of a little pit bull because I didn't know what it would be like for us when we went to real school."

Quinn smiled at her, at James and said to the audience, "She was literally the first and only person I gravitated toward in first grade. San was so little and holding Britt's hand but she looked somehow vaguely murderous. I decided that was _exactly _what I needed in a school friend."

The audience laughed and Quinn smiled at James as she continued, "So I introduced myself and if you got San, you got Britts and I thank God every day for both of those manifest blessings. It was we three from then on."

James smiled. He was very experienced and immediately saw Santana was right. She could help get answers for him from Quinn that he couldn't get for himself.

He asked, "And then you met Rachel?"

Brittany answered, "Rach was late for school and when she walked in, she was the tiniest and cutest thing I'd ever seen in my whole entire life. She was way better than a baby bunny. I wanted to pick her up and pet her and carry her around."

Santana smiled and offered, "Britts still wants to pick Rachel up and pet her and carry her around like a baby bunny, people. That's why TMZ always posts what look like wildly inappropriate pap candids of them all over each other. Quinn and I learned to deal with their zero personal body space when we were sixteen."

The audience laughed because the whole TMZ thing was completely true. Santana faux-glared at Rachel as she continued, "My first thought was Rach was completely adorkable even though I didn't know that word at the time."

Rachel smiled and leaned forward to look at Santana, "Really? No way. You've never told me that."

Santana shrugged, "Way and whatever. I can't even believe I just admitted that, midget."

The audience laughed and Rachel said, "We have it on record. Santana Lopez's first thought about me was that I was cute. Now that I have that particularly delicious factoid on film, my side of the story. I was late to school the first day because someone had crashed into my daddy's car. It was a tiny fender-bender basically but I didn't know it was going to be a metaphor for the next decade of my school life. That metaphorical car crash happened every day and it wasn't a fender-bender, believe me."

Quinn nodded. "Quoted for truth._ I_ was the metaphorical car who metaphorically hit her next. I remember the first time I saw her. She was wearing an argyle skirt, knee high socks and a sweater with a frog on it. The minute I saw her and she spoke, I knew I'd never be able to breathe again if anyone ever spoke to her or was nice to her. Ever."

Santana nodded. "True story. At recess that first day she told me and Britts that nobody could be friends with Rachel. Everybody had to hate Rachel."

James tilted his head and asked, "Rachel, do you remember meeting Quinn?"

"Of course I do. I remember thinking she was," she looked at Quinn, "and I'm sorry baby, the most beautiful girl or even anything at all in the world I'd ever seen. I hoped she'd be my friend." Rachel looked at the floor and then smiled gamely up at the audience. "That wasn't what happened."

James flipped a card and asked, "What did happen, Quinn?"

She looked at the audience and said, "It's pretty well known but I'll say it again. I bullied her for the next ten years. And you'll think I was maybe some mean girl you've seen in your lives or in movies. I was all that but I always ruled the school from day one and I wasn't just a mean girl. I was a cruel girl."

She shifted in her chair. "I made Rachel's childhood school years a living hell. I demanded that everyone ignore or torture her. No middle ground. I made her life in school so brutal a time for ten years that she can't do anything now but be proud she survived me. That was how I handled a violently possessive and obsessive love at first sight I didn't understand. That's what happened."

James asked, "What sort of bullying are we talking about, Rachel?"

Rachel smiled. "Every single kind and every day, weekends included. Verbal, mental, emotional, physical, bathroom graffiti, Internet. I was everyone's school soccer-ball for ten years."

Kurt spoke up from the front row. "Mr. Lipton. I was also bullied and picked on because I was pretty much just as gay looking and sounding at age six as I am right now. I was abused verbally and physically. But no one in our grade school, middle school or high school ever, ever was bullied like Rachel."

Mercedes solemnly added, "That's for real. No one got hurt ever nearly as much as she did, Mr. Lipton."

Rachel smiled at them sweetly but her voice was firm, "Thank you for that affirmation, Kurt, Mercedes. But we're not going to expound on this subject anymore because it's completely in the past. Quinn's said enough about her behavior in the amazing work she does to educate bullies that it doesn't need reiterating here."

James looked at his cards and then up at Rachel. "What impact do you think suffering so much abuse so young had on your life and your career?"

Santana immediately burst into laughter and Quinn followed. Brittany was obviously straining not to as Kurt and Mercedes bent forward laughing. The audience didn't know whether to laugh or not because it shouldn't be funny.

Rachel show smiled at James and then the audience. "I apologize for my friends. The reason they're laughing is that it didn't have any effect on me. I'm sure I'd have had a happier childhood had those things not happened to me and around me. I really wanted and would have loved to have friends and to have had sleepovers. I would have liked to have been invited to birthday parties. I would have liked to have had other kids speak nicely to me at school or someone call me and leave a message saying something nice instead of something really horrible. I would have liked being called Rachel instead of Rupaul or Hooknose or Manhands."

She crossed her legs and continued, "I would have liked to go to school every day without having to take a change of clothes because of the ritual of throwing drinks and food on me. I would have liked not to have been gay-bashed and having had a broken skull. I would have liked all of those things. But if anything, those experiences only made me more determined because I knew I was bigger than others' pettiness and insecurity. I knew I didn't deserve their cruelty. What they thought about me didn't matter. What I thought about me did. What I thought and think about me hasn't changed. What I understand about others, however, has changed in very personal and wonderful ways my wife and my partners have taught me."

The audience clapped as Quinn took Rachel's hand, kissed it and released it before saying. "Okay. Mr. Lipton. I know what's next. I'm sorry but I really need to rip the band-aid off and I know you're the interviewer and I'm sorry I might flip your cards quicker than you want me to but," she waved her hand at the room, "I'm_ here_. I am not in my therapist's office and I won't say more than this. I had unprotected sex with a boy exactly once and became pregnant. Yes, ladies, once is all it takes. My parents kicked me out of the house when they found out. I lived in basements and on other peoples' couches until I gave birth. My child's father Noah and I chose Rachel's birth mother to adopt our biological daughter. My sperm donor assaulted Rachel when she was sixteen and nearly killed her. I'm happily reunited with my mother. I won't talk about how I feel about any of that here. I just won't."

She half-smiled at the audience. "I'm sorry but I must issue a very serious disclaimer. As you know, I don't really do this bare your soul thing but you're hearing Rachel married me after I abused her for a decade."

"You people in this and the TV audience all need to remember a few things. I went through lots of therapy to be with Rachel. She never was with me until I was in therapy."

She leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees and spoke seriously at the people facing her.

"Once we were involved romantically, and Rachel can verify this, okay? Sure, we've had our little or big spats. We were kids and now we're married and that's normal. But I never hurt her feelings intentionally and I never disrespect her. I promise you people she wouldn't put up with me for even a minute if I acted out the way I used to. Do not think just because we had our happy ending that it's normal or easy or whatever for a person who abuses you to find Jesus or sanity or whatever and treat you right and marry you, okay? It almost never happens. I chose to have therapy. I chose to change. I go out of my way to show her every day of my life how lucky I know I am and don't deserve, as the abuser I once was, that she allows me to even breathe in her presence."

She pointed both index fingers at the audience. "That said, I know as sure as I'm breathing a few of you in this audience are being abused in some form or fashion by a romantic partner and you're hoping he or she will wake up and be all happy schmappy and finally stop hurting you, right? You know it and I know it. Don't for a second take away from looking at us that abusive relationships can change into true love without the abuser making a real effort to change. And if you're the sort of woman or man who tends to find five mean guys or girls in a row? If it happens even twice, the one correlative factor is _you_. So _you_ have to change, too. That's not hating on you—it's just true. Think, pray or just crawl out if you have to but don't take crap from someone like me or someone worse than me."

The audience was completely still. "After this show, you few people in the audience, take time tonight to call abuse what you know it is and don't accept it from some craptastic person you want to think loves you. Maybe he or she does and doesn't know how to love you in a healthy way but you deserve better than someone who hurts you exactly as much or more than she or he loves you. I'm a former violent abuser telling you people something I know first-hand. There are many places you can ask for help. Google them, get away and get happier. And maybe not happy but safe. As our fathers have always told me and Rach, you can't have happy unless you're safe. That ends my PSA and I'm sorry Mr. Lipton."

The audience was stunned but clapped rather uproariously. James thought about the sadness that perhaps many of these students might have personally needed to hear that or knew friends who did. He smiled, flipped forward past five cards and said. "What is the unholy trinity?"

Quinn smiled, "That would be me, San and Britts. A name we knew our high school called us but never to our faces. When kids saw us coming down the hall together, they scattered. For good reason, I might add."

Kurt, Mercedes and Rachel lifted their church hands as the audience laughed.

Mercedes said, "Promise before God, Mr. Lipton, when you saw those three coming down the hall, it was like you'd turned on a light in the kitchen and all us high school cockroaches either tried to pretend we didn't exist or we ran like hell."

Kurt nodded, "Mercedes speaks truth. We were all insects and those three together were pesticide."

Quinn snorted, "That's an apt analogy, Kurt."

Kurt grinned at her, "Of course it is, Quinn. I remember scurrying."

James Lipton asked, "Besides the cereal, what are Cheerios?"

Brittany answered, "Cheerios are the cheerleading squad for William McKinley High."

"What is the HBIC?"

Every Gleek laughed except for Quinn, who answered, "Head bitch in charge. That's me."

Santana smiled, "Still true, by the way."

The audience laughed again.

"When did you start cheerleading?"

Quinn smiled, "It was baby camp after first grade. I went with San and Britts. It doesn't mean all that much at that age because six year old boys play any sport about as well as they spell."

Santana added, "If you have talent, you can move forward as a cheerleader. Some peeps don't know it's actually a sport you can get a college scholarship for. It never means that much as far as the idea of what you think of cheer's concerned. If you're a high school football player, you might be dating a cheerleader but cheering means next to about nothing to the team or even to the spectators. It's a separate sport."

Rachel added, "The funny thing about our high school was that the basketball, baseball and hockey teams weren't so good. The football team was awful. It's really hard for cheerleaders to get a crowd behind a losing team. I guess I should add the fact I know that only because I attended games so I could watch Quinn in short cheer skirts after we started dating."

Quinn quite visibly blushed. She knew it but smiled at Rachel before saying, "Plus it's a little ironic that the people cheering a team are the All-Americans and the teams they're cheering for aren't even nearly. Sorry guys."

James leaned back in his chair and flipped a card. "You won three national championships, did you not?"

"We did," Santana said, "And Quinn was captain all three years."

"Who is Sue Sylvester?"

All of the Glee kids laughed. They were all adults but the kids in them laughed.

Quinn said, "She was our cheer coach. I really don't know what to say because words really can't describe her. I know we're all supposed to be God's little snowflakes but most of us really aren't. Coach is one of God's snowflakes. She's truly completely unique and we all have to sort of love her. Having made it out alive from her coaching, I'm more proud of our squad's achievements in cheer than I am of any Oscar or whatever acting award, to be perfectly frank. I worked harder for cheer and for her."

Santana added, "She's actually not kidding, Mr. Lipton. My Grammys are nothing comparatively."

Brittany shrugged, "Or a Tony or all that stuff they keep giving me. Totally."

James Lipton nodded but felt himself struggling to keep up. "As you know, sometimes I put my guests on the spot for dance. Do you think we could get a cheer tonight?"

The audience clapped in anticipation.

* * *

Quinn grinned wryly, "We're stunt cheerleaders, not pom pom cheerleaders. I'm sure with all your research you must know they're entirely different things. But okay."

She looked at Santana and Brittany and made a hand gesture. Both of them looked slightly spooked but nodded yes. Quinn pointed at Kurt and he scampered onstage.

Quinn took off her heels, doffed her jacket and threw it on the floor. Santana tightened the laces on her boots.

Rachel suddenly didn't like how serious her people looked as Brittany moved the chairs back three feet before saying, "Move way back, Rach."

Brittany shelled Kurt's ear with one hand as she whispered. He blanched, nodded, whipped off his jacket and threw it to Rachel and said, "Hold it, please—but no folding. It's McQueen." The audience laughed as she scowled at him.

Quinn looked at her squad and said to James Lipton, "Kurt cheered with us for about half a year."

Kurt stared at Quinn, hard. "As a nominal squad member and vocalist."

She stared right back at him and said calmly and quietly something even the audience could hear was completely a command. "We've all done this before, Kurt. We practiced this when you were subbing for Steph in practice for two weeks, remember?"

He looked even paler than he usually did. "Yes. Yes, we did. Two weeks fourteen years ago."

"What Coach taught and I demand, you never forget and I know it. So, Kurt, you will be my other base. In case you're nervous, that's why Britts will be our back stop instead of you. Got it?"

Kurt looked terrified but nodded at the command and said, "Yes. Got it."

James Lipton was beginning to feel he'd asked for something, as Quinn had suggested, he hadn't really understood.

Quinn smiled at the audience and said, "Mr. Lipton likes dancing. This isn't dancing. The rest of us haven't done this in 12 years so we're doing something simple." She lowered her head and whispered, "Sort of." She looked at the audience. "Remember there would be three more groups of four in this."

She lifted her head and barked out, "Squad! On one! Three, two one! O_KAY_!"

They began the cheer, Kurt on the right of Santana, Quinn on the left. Brittany to her left but she quickly peeled off to get behind Santana. They all put their hands on her and on some mysterious count, crouched tightly, bounced up with the strength of their legs and the audience gasped to see Santana suddenly standing atop Quinn and Kurt's hands above their up-stretched arms.

The Cheerios continued their cheer, and on another mysterious count bounced down again and then mightily tossed Santana into the air. The audience exhaled in near horror as they watched Santana do a tight somersault flip forward into a basket toss, the momentum for which the others had quickly adjusted for. They formed a line and finished their cheer.

James wiped his brow as the audience stood and applauded lustily. Quinn hugged a visibly shaken Kurt and kissed him. He retrieved his jacket from Rachel and went back to his seat as Quinn put on her heels and jacket. Brittany put the chairs back in place and they all took their seats. Brittany smiled at the audience. "I know Quinn totally just did a disclaimer but I want to add another. Don't try what we just did at home."

The audience burst into laughter.

Brittany rubbed her nose with one hand and smiled at them. "I get it's funny. But stunt cheering is totally the most dangerous high school and college sport. Google it if you don't know that. That's totes why Kurt was weirded out. The risks of that for San as our flyer were broken bones, paralysis or death. I'm not even kidding. What we just did could have killed her. Mr. Lipton asked and we did it but we weren't showing off. We wouldn't have done it except we all trained together for twelve years and there's no way Quinn or me would ever let San hit the ground. Never ever. You did super great helping, Kurt."

He smiled up at her from the first row and said, "I was working on pure terror and blind obedience. That's Quinn in a nutshell, ladies and gentlemen. You fear and obey. Forever. And you, Ms. Fabray, owe me dinner and a number of cocktails after this."

Quinn grinned at him and said, "I owe you dinner and enough cocktails to earn a crashpad in our guestroom, Mr. Hummel. Understood."

Mercedes said, "I'm bogarting those cocktails, Q. Word to the whole fear and obey thing, people. I cheered for a little while, too, and I almost need an IV drip of vodka after seeing that, Mr. Lipton. You folks don't know how crazy dangerous that was."

Santana laughed as she shrugged, "No biggie. Seriously, though, thanks Kurt. I'm not a flyer for anyone I don't trust and even after all these years I didn't have a worry in the world you wouldn't hold me and catch me."

Tears immediately welled in Kurt's eyes. She'd been so kind to him and Mercedes with music but it was the nicest thing she'd ever personally said to him. She trusted him with her life and had said so publically. Mercedes very seriously knew what that meant and took Kurt's hand.

James Lipton realized this was going to be a very odd show as he flipped a card.

"What is New Directions?"

All of the Gleeks turned to Rachel, who beamed. "It was our show choir Glee club taught by William Schuester. It's really the only reason all of us became semi-sort of friends in school and lifelong friends afterwards."

Santana smiled at Rachel. "Rach and Cedes and Kurt had already joined this completely loser club all by themselves. I'm not forgetting our guy Puck, but that's another tawdry story. Me and Q and Britts joined it to undermine the club. Coach Sylvester wanted the budget for Glee for the Cheerios. So we were sort of secret agents."

The audience laughed and Santana point an index finger at them, "Right? It was exactly as high school as it sounds. Coach wanted us to undermine the Glee club from the inside but we all sorta found out we liked it."

James smiled, "Because you surprised me with your presence, Santana, I thought I might ask you to show us what you did to audition for Glee club? I have the music for you."

Santana lowered her head, then looked at Quinn who was merely shaking her head in a purely, 'I can't believe this' way.

"Cap?"

"Fine." Quinn stood up and again took off her heels and jacket as she said, "As you know, Mr. Lipton, this is actually _my_ performance you're forcing me into but I'll do it."

Quinn stood at the front of the stage with Brittany and Santana and they all sang and danced "I Say a Little Prayer," to uproarious applause.

James was delighted. Quinn wasn't and she again dressed herself. "That, I promise you, ends the performing seal portion of my participation in this show tonight. Talk to Rachel and Kurt and Mercedes about Glee. They were more important than I ever was."

Rachel knew that Quinn, from the evidence of her overly shiny smile, was actually furious so she took over. "I happened to have been born a diva, Mr. Lipton. Kurt and Mercedes were as well so it was something of a bloodbath between us competing for solos."

Santana lifted a hand, "Every damn day."

Mercedes chuckled, "And Rachel was the captain of the club."

Kurt smiled, "Naturally."

Rachel smiled at them, "It was a challenging time for all of us. To be in Glee club was sort of the kiss of death for popularity in our school. The fact that we had at least four of the most popular students at school and two of the toughest was gravy but the rest of us were pond scum and or just nothings except for our participation in the club. I don't think it was strange at all that we'd fight for what we could get from it. We won Nationals our senior year and I've never been more proud. I can say, and thank you Mr. Schue, that Glee club gave me nearly everything and everyone most important to me in my life."

Quinn added, "I think I can speak for San, Britts, Kurt and Mercedes and actually all of we Gleeks can agree with that."

They all nodded.

James flipped a card. "Rachel and Quinn were both cast in their first roles when they were twenty. Tell us how that happened. Rachel, you first. _After All. _The audience clapped and cheered as Rachel smiled.

James continued, "I saw you in this role and I agree with critics who nearly universally regarded your Tony award winning performance as one of the most spectacular debuts in Broadway history. How did you find the part?"

Rachel smiled at James and the audience, "I didn't. The part found me. Brittany's teacher and mentor was a woman named Irena Sokoll. Have you ever meet her, Mr. Lipton?"

James nodded and answered his audience, "I've had that pleasure twice. For those of you who don't know the name, Irena Sokoll was a prima ballerina for the Bolshoi and for the New York City Ballet." He turned to Rachel. "She's a formidable artist and I believe she's played another role in your life."

"That's true. She saved my life when Russell Fabray attacked me and broke my skull. She saw him attack me and knocked him on the ground with her cane. As an artist, because she trained Brittany and Michael from age five, she took an interest in their friends. Obviously, I wasn't a_ friend_ friend until I was sixteen. But she knew of me and believed in me and kept an eye out for something we could all do together. She produced _After All_, enlisted Bonifac Vacek and the rest is history."

The audience clapped as Brittany cocked her head at that short answer and saw Rachel was trying not to take over or talk too much because of Quinn. That wasn't cool.

So she leaned forward and smiled at Rachel before she said to the audience. "Since you're students, it might help you to know something. Rachel's being totally too nice and 'oh no big deal' and not telling you the real story. Some of you might be thinking she had it easy and got her big break on Broadway because she knew someone. And that's the only reason she was a star and got a Tony for it. Right?"

Quinn took a deep breath and smiled at Santana, who smiled back. At age 30, they'd long ago realized they truly enjoyed watching Brittany defend Rachel.

Brittany shook her head, "Wrong. Sure. She knew one super important person. Irena. Lots of you might think, oh wow if someone would just give me that sorta chance, I'd be all over it. Seriously? Really? Are you ready? Since I've known her—and we were six when we met, Rachel's done vocal and dance training every day. Rachel was taking voice, dance classes and acting classes before I knew her when she was four years old. She's on her elliptical at six in the morning five days a week for cardio conditioning and does Pilates and yoga after. She always eats super healthy food, sleeps like a rock, drinks maybe two drinks a month and never does drugs. I know some or maybe a lot of you guys think being an actor or director means being all emo and drinking and drugging and doing the whole sleeping around thing."

She shrugged, "I mean, I totally understand that because how old are you guys? You're in your twenties most of you. You do what you want to. Cool. How many of you have prepared yourself every day for sixteen years for your one big shot? I'm not kidding. You haven't lived with her. We have. She works every single day and still does. My teacher Irena knew her talent when she saw it but she respected the discipline in her mind and for her body a lot more and enough to give her a chance."

Santana, Kurt and Mercedes lifted their church hands. Quinn just smiled as Brittany continued.

"_After All _was the first show I ever choreographed. I got to do it with Mike. Irena made that happen for us. We'd been training together since we were five. So we all got Tonys for what some of you probably think was just some magical unicorn called 'they knew somebody.' So what if we knew somebody? We still had to do the job. No disrespect but theater isn't like in film where you can do the same scene five or ten or twenty or sixty times and even then they can edit you and make you look good even if you're maybe not. Onstage, you're live and you have to be perfect. It was brutal for all of us."

Brittany leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees.

"For two months in pre-production and Rachel doesn't known this and Mike won't care if I tell you guys to teach you. For two months, after she and Bon left every night, Mike and I just lay on the floor, held hands and cried. Totally like little babies. We cried every single night on the floor because it was so crazy hard to choreograph and dance. We were so scared and hurt so bad we cried._ You_ try creating feeling and drama in dance nonstop for maybe sixteen hours every day for two months. We threw up all the time because it made us sick to be dancing so much and so hard plus just knowing we had to make it what Bon wanted and what Rachel deserved."

"You can't know what Rach being on Broadway meant to me and Mike. Just thinking about the responsibility of creating something she'd dreamed about all her life. Have you ever been responsible for someone's lifetime dream? Ever? No. I bet you haven't. We were. It was our big first big job, too, right? But it wasn't. It was all for Rachel. We were scared sick to make it perfect for her. Rach might remember we were drinking ginger ale, Power-Ade and eating Saltines all the time. I'm just telling you the reals and only to say as hard as it was for us, it was harder for Rachel. No lie. She had to sing and she had to dance what we made her do, which was a little completely impossible."

Rachel shook her head and wiped tears from her eyes. She had never known Brittany and Mike had so viscerally felt what the show meant for her but she absolutely remembered all the ginger ale, the Power-Ade and Saltines and she hadn't known why.

Brittany continued, "You can think whatever about me and Mike getting a special favor from one of the best dancers in the world after being trained by her for fifteen years but don't go away thinking Rachel got something for nothing. She worked harder to do that role than anyone I've ever seen. Me and Mike and Bon crushed her into the floor for that show every day and she bounced back up and did it so don't think that just because she got a chance, she was lucky. She wasn't just lucky. She was ready. All you wannabe Broadway stars in the audience? I bet a lot of you are super talented. If you want, you could try to dance with me right now and sing your best while you're doing it but most of you guys couldn't keep up with me or Mike for fifteen minutes. Promise. Much less for a 127 minute show. Rachel did. Eight times every week. When you get a chance, and you never know when you might get one, you'd better be ready. Rachel was. Sorry. But I had to say that."

The audience was a little stunned but clapped. James realized this was becoming a different show and a side of the performance life these students rarely saw on the show. He turned to Rachel. "The singing and dancing, of course, were pure electricity. What I felt watching it, as so many critics mentioned, was the incredible character you created. With musicals, even great ones, sometimes a character is fashioned only through the music. You created a truly tragic character who wasn't necessarily likable but you made the audience want her to succeed."

"Jonah Nash, from the L.A. Times wrote, 'It is magical, wrenching and heartbreaking. You watch this character you come to care for heading for what is sure to be an incandescent train wreck but somehow you leave feeling truly buoyed at her triumphant spirit as she faces the train.' Can you tell our students a little about how you approached the role?"

Rachel smiled at James, "Thank you first for your kind words." She bit her lower lip then said, "I could be flippant about this but I won't be. It wasn't a hard thing to imagine myself as my character, a woman trying for something almost impossibly difficult—and ultimately failing. I've personally lived on my one dream all my life but although being cast on Broadway was that dream come true, it didn't mean I'd succeed."

She smiled, pointed at the audience and said, "Casting doesn't mean success! Don't ever think that!"

They laughed and she continued, "I'm absolutely nothing like my character Candace as far as our histories or lives are concerned but I could relate to her need to take what control of her destiny she could. I could even relate to facing the fact that she might not just _be_ enough or that the world or fate were bigger and against her. It was a poignant role for me because," she snorted a sharp laugh, "on that opening night, I could have been Candace. I don't get performance anxiety, folks."

She smiled sheepishly at the audience. "I truly don't. I over-prepare everything until there's nothing more I could possibly do. But I'm not unaware that, no matter the preparation, sometimes things don't go my way. I had a lifetime of one failure after another in school and I still kept going. One thing that spoke to me in the songs and the libretto was that, although ultimately Candace failed, she went down swinging and swinging hard. Anyone who knows me could tell you I could fail but it wouldn't be for lack of trying."

Santana clapped with the audience but smiled as she did so. "See? She's saying swinging but I think she might think that's just a figure of speech. That's the poignant part of Rachel's go to song for me because I don't know if she even knows she's been singing a metaphor about baseball all her life. She's clueless about anything sporty. The lines, 'And if I'm fanned out, your turn at bat, sir.'

Rachel jerked her chin, "What about that song is about baseball beside the reference to a bat, Santana Lopez?"

Quinn lowered her head. Brittany smiled helpfully.

Santana snorted. "See? As maniacal as you are about everything, I just knew you wouldn't look that one thing up. Midge, in baseball, you fan out when you strike out and you gotsda give the turn at bat to someone else."

Rachel brightened immediately, "Naturally, as I'm not an aficionado of baseball, I didn't understand this reference. I thought it meant I had no fans and must give the bat to someone else. Thank you for that elucidation!"

The audience laughed and Quinn covered her eyes as she chuckled.

"No probs, hobbs."

James lifted his brows and smiled, "You're speaking of course of the song, Don't Rain on My Parade."

Santana nodded. "She'll sing it a cappella if you want."

James leaned forward and said, hopefully, "Would you?"

Rachel gave Santana a thunderous glare, which Santana laughed at. "Stand up, shawty, and me and Q, B, Kurt and Mercedes will start you off." Santana immediately started singing the staccato opening musical tones for the song and they all joined in before Rachel rose and began to sing.

Rachel gave it not both guns but all of her artillery. When she'd finished, James and the audience rose as one, as did her friends, and gave her a thunderous standing ovation.

When they'd settled, Quinn smiled and kissed Rachel's cheek before saying, "Don't think, Mr. Lipton, I didn't notice you wouldn't dream of asking a vocal artist like Rachel to sing unless you'd cleared it with her beforehand but you de facto asked me to, didn't you?"

James blushed as he said, "You're right and I apologize, Quinn. Your first movie, "Don't Even" was directed by Aaron Summers. Can you walk us through how you were cast for your first role?"

Quinn laughed a genuine laugh. "Okay. I have to preface this with a big apology. I have zero method. I completely subscribe to Spencer Tracy's advice about acting. 'Show up on time, know your lines and don't bump into the furniture.' Ms. Sokoll, our Russian wizard, twisted my arm and made me minor in theater at Columbia. That's both a long and short story I won't tell."

She smiled again winningly at the audience. "So. I can't help you with acting because I don't know anything about it. I know I'm Ms. Award Winning Movie Star person but Rachel's forgotten more than I know about it. And probably lots of you, actually. That said, I can help you with Hollywood. I was cast in my first movie because I was a pretty blonde. Full stop. A classmate of mine, who was taking Acting 102 with me, knew Aaron, who was casting his first movie."

"The only thing I got out of my two acting classes was the knowledge I must be a spectacular actor if the professors and my fellow students couldn't see I wanted to both laugh out loud and/or stab myself and them while taking acting lessons. Seriously, I was bored rigid. You guys might be different and artistic as I am not and I respect that but I seriously don't have to act like I'm a tree or mime stuff to know how to be somebody else. I've had to act varying versions of nobody I've ever been all my life, including how I'm acting right now."

Quinn was so shiny and pretty that Santana bit her lower lip and snapped her fingers at Quinn, who accepted the warning. Red zone. _Chill._ She took a deep breath.

"Aaron's a completely talented writer/director I feel amazingly lucky to have worked with and I'm delighted but not surprised he's gone on to further fantastic work and acclaim. I suppose I should say because I know it's true he didn't cast me for my looks alone. He wouldn't do that because he's a complete professional. But facts first. The only reason I got the chance to read was because I was pretty. Period. That's Hollywood, people. I didn't even have a head shot."

She relaxed into her chair.

"I still don't have a head shot, by the way, which gives my agent hives. I've never lost the irony of the fact a head shot means death if you're talking about shooting a gun. That's about the equivalent of being in front of a camera for me. All of you in this audience, many of whom who are undoubtedly one hundred times more talented than I am, will have to work so much harder than I have just because you might not happen to be as pretty a blonde as I am. Plus you'll have to act like that doesn't suck and make you feel really bitter. That's a real Actors' Studio acting lesson for you."

Quinn leaned forward. "That's reality. You'll work, you'll slave and you'll torture yourself to get anything…anything at all. You'll want any acting job. I've worked with plenty of people—famous people—who'd taken any damned commercial they could. I understand that from the outside. I'd work at McDonalds and proudly so before I'd do it but I understand it. I'm married to it. I know for sure there was a time Rach would have sold the…effing eff…out of bananas or yoghurt in a thirty second clip if she'd been given a chance."

Rachel beamed adoration at Quinn. She would have.

That made Quinn smile a real smile.

She jerked her thumb at Rachel, "I've lived with it since we were six years old. You guys want to act. You have to act. Got it. The simple truth about me is that I never wanted to act. I always had to act in real life so much I never wanted to make it a profession. But God and Irena said ha to me. I got my first acting job without even caring about it only because I was pretty and happened to be talented enough to back it up. Pretty blonde girl. Hollywood aisle five."

Everyone in the audience looked so nearly horrified by this that Quinn said, "What? Really? You didn't know that sometimes talent like Rachel's wins and looks like mine win more? Is that a newsflash to you? Let me be a bully for a second. Actors? Get used to it. Broadway tends to thin the herd really quickly because, as Britts said, you actually have to be there and do something. Hollywood is your worst high school nightmare come true. Promise. You'll have to talent your way into it like Rachel did initially or just pretty your way into it like I did. Look at us.

If you need to talent your way through, you'd better get busy because there's someone like my beautiful girl working ten times harder than you are and if you have to just pretty your way through it like me, look in the mirror, look at me and good luck. I hate that it's true but I'm talking reality. I promise I don't like saying it as much as you don't like hearing it. How do you get cast? Luck. Luck happens more easily for pretty than talented in Hollywood. But talented once you've hit that luck will take you farther than pretty. You don't have to be both. You have to be at least one. I'd choose talented. Or if you're one of the many freaks of nature who get lucky who have neither the talent or the pretty, and I've worked with a few, good for you and go with God."

James let the audience sit with that for a few moments because it was actually truth people never said so bluntly on his stage. He continued, "I would respectfully beg to differ about your talent, Quinn. Because Rachel worked on After All for three years, you continued your movie career. Your next movie was _Joy Zone,_ which because of the nature of studio releases, was nearly simultaneously released with _Don't Even _and made you suddenly seem to be everywhere."

Quinn snorted, "Don't remind me. _Don't Even_ was, as you've said, this little indie film but it went to Sundance. It got a lot of bites and then a buy but the studio wanted to wait for a bit to put it out. Off the buzz of that, my agent slid me a script for this big summer tent-pole science fiction apocalypse and said she'd try to get me aboard if I wanted."

Quinn looked at the audience, "Note what I just said? If_ I_ wanted. I don't just want anything I can get. Decide right about now if your ambition and your agent are going to run your career or you are. Just a word to the wise. Anyway, I read it and I actually wanted in on it only because Santana loves Darren Schulz and thought it'd be something she'd like to watch."

Santana leaned forward, "_Really_?"

Quinn looked at her and shrugged, "If you think I was going to pass up a wildly well-written script that had me doing all the sci-fi stuff you dream about in daily life and blow bad guys and aliens away with a gun nearly as big as you are, you are out of your mind. I took_ Joy Zone_ because it was a great script, Darren's obviously a near legend in scifi and I got to out-badass Santana Lopez onscreen."

The audience laughed with Santana but the latter sighed when they'd finished, "It _was_ totally badass."

Quinn smiled at her and turned to James. "I actually thought I was going to be the pretty supporting girl who dies nobly. That's what I prepared to read for. I didn't know I'd be the lead. I don't say that to denigrate the acting of Denise Fratelli, who played the character of Angelica. Spoiler alert. She_ is_ pretty and she _did _die nobly but if you've seen the movie, you know that Denise gave the character a depth and presence with so little screen-time that as an audience, everyone felt the force of her death and sacrifice. Lesson, people. Small roles can mean a lot. So, although I enjoyed the experience and am incredibly proud of any contribution I made to a really great film, I feel happiest about the fact that the movie's success and Denise's part in it gave her the attention and career jumpstart she deserved as the artist she is."

The audience applauded and James asked his next question. "Let's next talk about your movie together, _Two Women, One Man_."

The audience whooped and clapped.

"Critics found it, as I did myself, one of the most vicious and wittiest romantic comedies they'd ever seen. Your director Joe Carson admitted that he threw away the script and you adlibbed it."

Rachel smiled, "We did. It was easy."

"Peasy," Quinn added.

Mercedes said from the front row, "Mr. Lipton, it was like watching Q doing her brand of mean channeling San for the funny and Rachel fighting right back like she never did in school. I laughed my as…booty off the first time I saw it."

Kurt shoulder bumped Mercedes, "Because I know them and know our history, it was pretty much the wittiest and most cathartic thing I've ever seen. I've watched it probably twenty times."

Santana said, "I personally still watch it just for the porn factor."

The audience and James laughed as he said, "It was something most people found magical. What do you remember of that experience?"

Quinn grinned, "I remember getting to do love scenes with my wife and meeting my boyfriend Zac."

Rachel semi-scowled. "I remember watching my wife falling in love with our guy."

Quinn laughed and the audience knew immediately they were both kidding. "Seriously, it was like being a kid at a fair or a circus to get to work with Rachel and Zac has become my best friend outside my immediate family, which includes my Gleeks. We'd been married six years when we filmed that but it was an experience I'll never forget. We had to be hyper-versions of ourselves and Rachel got to slug it out and back at me. Just hearing her hurt me back made it something I'll never forget. And I mean that in the sense of gratitude. She hit me back as richly as I deserved. With no disrespect meant to the film or its auteur Joe, who knows I love him and will understand, I've made weightier films or I suppose what critics might consider better. I only say that because it was meant to be only a slightly waspish comedy. That said, I like that film best of all because Rachel got to hit me back and harder. I'm so glad she got to hurt me on film. Everything from high school is only a memory. Film's forever. Rachel beat me up and she won, for the record and forever. She won as she deserved to and nothing I ever do on film could ever, ever make me happier than losing to her."

Kurt, Mercedes, Santana and Brittany understood this, cold, and watched Rachel smile even as they knew she was saddened by that admission.

She nodded at Quinn and said, "What can I say? She's my wife. I remember working with a consummate artist. She gave me space to adlib and improvise. You don't know me. I don't adlib or improvise. I don't adlib or improvise breakfast or even breathing. I plan everything. EVERYTHING. She just stood there and dared me to be free enough to do it. She dared me and I just jumped when I never jump except with a PowerPoint plan for what might happen next. I didn't have a plan. I had nothing but someone daring me to be an actor without a plan. I'd never, ever considered that a possibility. I jumped and I'm so happy I did. Of the two of us, she's the natural actor. I'm trained. She acts."

* * *

They'd gone through the rest of their careers to date and James was sweating. It had been a wild, interesting and rough ride.

He asked as always, "I will end, as always, with the questionnaire from Bernard Pivot."

Quinn raised a hand. "Rachel first, please."

He nodded and smiled at Rachel.

"What is your favorite word?"

"Brava."

"What is your least favorite word?"

"No."

"What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?"

"Singing."

"What turns you off?"

"Silence."

"What is your favorite curse word?"

"Fuck. You can use it grammatically in every possible way."

The audience laughed.

"What sound or noise do you love?"

"The sound of Quinn's heart."

"What sound or noise do you hate?"

"Not enough applause at the end of a solo."

The audience laughed.

"What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?"

"I can't think of any other profession I could do. Wait! PowerPoint instructor!"

The Gleeks burst into raucous laughter.

Rachel dipped her shoulders in chagrin. "Sorry. Private joke."

James smiled, "What profession would you not like to do?"

"Anything that required silence."

Santana and Quinn barked laughter at that response.

"If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?"

"It's standing room only, five minutes to mark and Quinn's only been here for two minutes. The rest of your family and friends have been booked for a later show."

The audience clapped and Quinn leaned over to kiss Rachel on the cheek.

"Alright, Quinn, you're next."

She nodded.

"What is your favorite word?"

"Rachel."

"What is your least favorite word?"

"Bully."

"What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?"

"Rachel and silence. You can't get them simultaneously, by the way. Story of my life."

Rachel gently smacked Quinn on her arm. Quinn smiled at her.

"What turns you off?"

"The idea of me."

"What is your favorite curse word?"

"The word I as a subjective."

"What sound or noise do you love?"

"Rachel laughing."

"What sound or noise do you hate?"

"Rachel crying."

"What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?"

"Rachel's housewife."

"What profession would you not like to do?"

"Rachel's understudy."

"If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?"

"You just squeaked in but Rachel, Santana, Brittany, Puck, Girl Sam, your children and all of your friends and family have been unavoidably delayed. I want it to be me first, as per usual. Who's in charge?"

Santana felt tears sting her eyes but said, "You, bitch."

James Lipton blinked as Quinn and Rachel rose to take a seat on the stairs before the audience. "Thank you and I give you your students."

* * *

Rachel and Quinn smiled at their audience as they stepped from the stage to two chairs in front of their audience.

"Hi. I'm Joseph, a second year directing student. This question is for both of you. What do like or dislike in a director? I know that's a sort of lame question but I think I should know."

Rachel and Quinn smiled at him and then at each other. Rachel said, "Not lame at all. I think that's something every director needs to know—that every actor is different. I'm like this—I make a backstory for my character. I make notes in my script and enjoy talking to my director about my character and learning if I'm on the same page with him or her. I like verification after scenes. That helps me. I want feedback."

Quinn sighed. "See? As Rach said, it's a great question, Joseph. This is what's hard with actors. Rach likes working it out with her director and hearing, scene by scene, how she's doing. Me? I'd ask you exactly once what you want me to do. You can give me input but if you call 'cut' and we move on to the next scene, I'll assume I did what you wanted. I don't need or want feedback. In fact, if you say something like 'that was great', I'd want to punch you. You hired me to do a great job you described for me. So? I flipped my burger well. Oh wow. Who knew and who cares? Your job as a director—and if you get big and I hope you will, will be to work with lots of little and big actors. So you'll have to not only think of production and your vision of your piece of art, you'll be finding out what sort of baby-sitting, for the most part, big-name-big-budget-item children need. Some need artistic validation to live and some don't need it at all. I've acted in lots more films than Rach because she's Ms. Broadway. When you come across that rare adult actor and I don't mean that in the sense of porn…

The audience chuckled.

"Treat him or her with respect and just give limited notes. The rest? Cuddle them emotionally and make them feel special."

Rachel stamped one foot. "I resent that!"

Quinn smiled at Rachel and took her hand, "Why, angel?"

Rachel scowled, "Don't think I don't know you're talking about me!"

Quinn pointed at Joseph. "See? Case in point."

The audience laughed as Rachel said, "I hate you right now, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn smiled at Joseph. "She doesn't hate me at all and is, in her way, acknowledging my opinion. That's part of the gig, buddy. Next?"

Rachel glared at Quinn, who was smiling at the audience. "I won't kiss you for a week."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "You'll kiss me right now."

Rachel fumed but leaned over to give Quinn a gentle kiss. "I still hate you."

Santana said, "That? Me and Britts live with that 24/7. Next question."

A young man stood and said, "I'm Adam. I'm a first year actor and I'm leaning toward theater as opposed to film." He laughed at himself at his presumption and added. "That is, if anyone will have me. This question is for Ms. Berry. What helps you most preparing for theater?

Rachel smiled at him, "First thing's first. Never do what you just did. If you don't believe in yourself, no one else will. Of course they'll have you. Of course they will. You are gifting the people who will hire you with your talent. They are merely the brokers of talent. You're more important than they are. As far as your question, it's a little counter-intuitive, Adam. Voice, dancing and acting classes—your training is, of course, incredibly important. I've found that what has helped me just as much, if not more, has been to prepare myself physically. Acting in theater, regardless of the art of it, is not a sprint. It's a marathon—a course of endurance. When you feel strong, you are strong. I place tremendous importance on exercise and nutrition as part of my artistic training. As far as the feeling you need to give to get into character? That's a completely different thing and something I've frankly really had to work on because acting is something I've always aspired to do but it's not natural for me as a person. All of my friends and loved ones can tell you I am never anything other than I am."

The audience laughed.

"I suppose I should also acknowledge that I, like most actors, tend to be incredibly self absorbed."

The audience laughed again and clapped.

Rachel smiled and took a deep breath. "I would say to stop thinking the word I. Stop thinking how _you_ would," she made air quotes, "'_act_' if you were a person like your character. I know Method. I've lived Method acting lessons all my life but Quinn took two classes, laughed at them and taught me everything I never knew about acting. I've studied. She hasn't. She doesn't care. I know I'm good but she's better. She doesn't care about acting. She has a person to play and just does it. She only prepares if she has to do an accent or do physical stunt things. I don't know if it's easy for her or not. She never talks about it, even to me. She's supremely uninterested in the subject of acting. She doesn't need a back story or costumes or anything to create a character. All of the talk about 'I found the right hat or shoes and I knew my character' which I _completely_ understand makes her laugh and not in a funny way."

Rachel smiled at Quinn and then turned back to the audience, "If she accepts a script, she asks her director what he or she wants and just does it. She doesn't spend sleepless nights over challenging emotional parts like I do. She just eats cereal in the morning, goes to work and does it. But—and this is important. She's naturally completely self-effacing and it's something most of we actors aren't. We like attention. She despises it. She's taught me, through example and just seeing her on film, that I don't matter and shouldn't when I act because it's not about me. It's solely about the character. She hates being the focus of anything but she shows up and she's always what she needs to be, without blinking. I suppose I've learned, through her, to try to stop over-thinking the process. Stop thinking about yourself. Remember your character is the point of acting and that you're never the focus. You should never want to be the focus of anything. Be your character. Stop acting."

The audience rose and gave this a standing ovation. As did James. Quinn smiled at Rachel. "You didn't have to say all that to get me to sleep with you tonight, Rach. I'll always do that for free."

The audience laughed as they took their seats.

A young woman stood up, on the front row before the stage, and said, "I'm Olivia and I'm a second year acting student. This question is for Quinn. In your movie,_ Garrison_, I haven't seen a better portrayal of a villain. I watched Anthony Hopkins explain his thinking about Lector. He said his initial thought was that he'd be intelligent, soft-spoken and never blink and the juxtaposition was horrible and he came to it that way. Can you tell us your thoughts on creating this character?"

Quinn smiled as she sighed. "I won my Oscar for this so let's see. Let's just say it wasn't a stretch for me."

Quinn stood and smiled at her. "You're completely adorable and I don't harbor any ill will toward you, okay?"

Olivia swallowed, "Okay."

"You know I was a bully in high school."

"Yes."

"I played this exactly how I played it in high school. Everyone has insecurities, Olivia."

Quinn looked her over. "I did it this way. I know, just looking at you, exactly what your insecurities are and could call you on them if I wanted. Ask Rachel if you have any doubt."

Rachel grimaced and nodded.

Quinn smiled and looked into the girl's eyes. "I could hurt you with words. Words you don't want said with other people in the room. Because they actually feel so much like when you say bad things about yourself, right? Everyone except Rachel says bad things about themselves."

"When people repeat lies out loud you only whisper to yourself, they have exponential power. I know that. What you do to act like my character in_ Garrison_ is the equivalent of telling those lies and not caring what harm you do giving them voice. Look at me, Olivia. I'm not Method acting. Look at me knowing I could say something devastating to you in front of everyone."

Olivia blinked and watched Quinn's eyes go cold. "Look into my eyes. This is my being able to joyfully destroy you and not care at all. Your feelings about that would mean absolutely nothing to me."

Olivia felt the frost of Quinn's complete willingness to hurt her and shivered.

"What you do is not care. You don't care and in fact relish it. You look like a nice person. I'm not. What you do, and it will be hard for you, if you ever have such a role, is not care."

"I'm not an artist. I can just do it. Some people are easily cold. That helps with acting but it's no gift personally. Now, say something really awful to me about me."

"What?"

"Hurt me."

"No—it's not—"

Quinn smiled and put her hand on Olivia's shoulder. "Hurt me. It's an acting exercise."

Olivia tried to speak, stopped and then said, "I see you're into the whole thick ass and thigh thing. Colonel Sanders would love you."

Olivia felt a pall go over the room and Quinn almost laughed as Santana predictably leaped up and shouted, "Oh hell no you didn't! I will _end_ you!" She strode to the edge of the stage saying, "Speaking of asses, Ima 'bout to beat yours down, bitch."

Rachel, Mercedes and Kurt had already jumped to their feet and stepped in front of Olivia.

Brittany ran forward, grabbed Santana and lifted her off her feet while Olivia cowered and Quinn held up one hand. "Stand down, lefty, I'm fine. Thanks, Britts. Everybody chill and sit down." Santana glared murder at the girl but returned to her seat. Brittany glared at the girl as well. Rachel, Mercedes and Kurt returned to their seats.

The completely stunned audience watched as Quinn smiled at them. "We bring the drama, right?" She jerked a thumb to indicate Santana. "That, by the way, was not acting and that wasn't just bluster. We're adults but Santana would not hesitate to physically assault you for insulting me and my people knew it. But you know why she's really angry right now? Santana knows you just hurt my feelings over one of my sorest insecurities about my body, Olivia. Rachel and Brittany are cringing inside because you said to that to me."

"You really, truly just hurt my feelings, on television and in front of my people, okay?"

Olivia gaped and felt like she would explode. She'd just been saying something dumb and because she was on the spot.

It was like Quinn could read her mind because she smiled, "Trust me. Even if you didn't consciously know it, you saw just how to hurt me." Quinn's eyes brimmed with tears and she let them fall. "See? I'm not acting right now. You hurt my feelings."

Olivia teared up and said, "Oh my God! I'm so sorry."

Quinn barked, "No! Don't be! This is the acting part. The acting part is knowing you're capable of hurting another person and seeing you've done it and not caring."

Quinn wiped her tears and said. "Watch this." Her face hardened as she looked Olivia over, "Who are _you_ to say anything to me about how_ I _look, little girl?"

Olivia again actually cowered and Quinn's smile was reptilian.

"That! _Right_ there—being scared of me is something I could easily crucify you with but not going to so don't worry." She snapped her fingers.

"Now, Olivia. _Now._ Divorce yourself from this moment and all your swirling feelings and stop caring you saw me hurt and knowing you did it. Stop caring that you made me cry even though you know I could slap you out of the park if I wanted to. Don't be scared knowing that. Act like you don't feel sorry for hurting me because I know you are and don't feel frightened of the consequences which I know you do. Stand tall and breathe. Take a deep breath and exhale, Olivia. Close your eyes and when you open them, look at me like you don't care about any of this and if anything you're happy you hurt me."

Olivia took another breath, steadied herself, closed her eyes and when she opened them, there was no emotion there except a tiny spark of hatred. Quinn smiled and clapped her hands. "YES! Fantastic! Everyone tends to think acting is showing emotion when lots of acting is removing it."

Quinn stepped forward and hugged her tightly. "I'm so glad you're a little pissed off I put you on the spot. I would be, too, and I do apologize."

She sat back in her chair and looked at the rest of the students. "That's another point. Auditions are literally being put on the spot and you won't believe what people will say about you right in front of you. They'll pick on every insecurity you have and point out a few you never knew you had. You'd better learn to act like it doesn't affect you until it really doesn't. Or be a Rachel. If a part calls for a 70 year old bald black man with a beard, Rachel knows it's completely the casting director's fault for not being able to see she'd be perfect for it."

The audience laughed as Kurt said, "Quinn's not actually kidding."

Rachel stamped one foot. "Kurt!"

Santana said, "I'm all aboard the teaching express but I'm still a little raw up here."

Quinn smiled, "Get down here and apologize to Olivia for scaring her, San."

Santana popped downstage and just leaped off it onto the floor. She smiled at Olivia and shook her hand, "Sorry I threatened you and I'm really glad I didn't have to hit you." Olivia and the audience laughed. "But still not happy about that shiz and gotta say all you people _wish _you had that ass. I do too."

Rachel raised a hand. "It's mine. Stop talking about it."

"I love you Rachel Berry."

"Right back, Quinn Fabray."

* * *

The questions went on and James was delighted by his students, delighted by the answers. Rachel was completely immersed in the training and Quinn was not. It made for an interesting mix.

At the end of the allotted time, Santana said, "And ruh roh. Cameras off, Mr. Lipton, I know the show is over but I thought since we hijacked you, I brought some music so we could sing and dance a little for you to pay the price of admission."

The audience cheered. "Get up here Kurt and Rachel._ For Good_."

Now Kurt and Rachel felt hijacked as they found that Santana had, indeed, brought the music. She said as she arranged the chairs for them. "They sound better together than anyone and no offense, Mercedes." Mercedes waved her hand and said, "Put your seatbelts on, people."

They sang it to each other and the audience was transfixed. When the last soaring note had ended, the audience stood and applauded. They were drama students, after all, and Kurt and Rachel had brought it.

Santana pointed and said, "Mercedes, River Deep, sistah."

Mercedes laughed and climbed the stairs to the stage. "Let's hit it, girl."

The audience cheered and laughed through the whole performance.

Santana smiled out at them when they were finished and said, "All you people get up now. You too, Mr. Lipton. We're gonna teach Yoda Lipton how to Dougie. Get up on this stage if you wanna." Students poured onto the stage as the music started. And they dougied. They were off camera so James Lipton did his level best. Brittany helped him and he laughed along with his students at the spectacle, old as he was, he was making of himself. Surrounded by his happy, joyous dancing students and guests he reveled in the fact, film addict that he was, it was a moment that wouldn't be captured on film. They weren't bound by art or the camera. They were free. He danced badly with abandon and at one point his eyes met Quinn's. She smiled at him, touched her nose and pointed at him.

Yes.

In just that moment, they were happy and alive and saw each other. Dancing and happy.

Theatrical art was his life but he sometimes forgot to remember life was life. He smiled back at her.

No camera necessary.

* * *

**A/N 2**

**Despite the fact I was continually smacking canon Finn in my mind, I always loved Cory. ****I always wanted to smack Finn but I wanted to make him human and a happy boy and man in this story. **I pray for him, Lea and all of their friends and family in this truly tragic time. And by the way? He wasn't all that tall, folks. _**Both**_** of my brothers are taller than he was. The problem was that everyone else around Cory just happened to be shorter. And that might be a sort of metaphor. Because metaphors are important, right, Rachel? God bless and keep you as I know He will, Cory Monteith. You always seemed like such a mensch and a lovely, thoughtful and kind man. "Good night sweet prince and a flight of angels sing thee to thy rest." **


	94. Chapter 94

**A/N**

**Disclaimers for Chapter One Apply. Remember this story ended long ago. **

**This is another fill-in-the-blanks chapter. Sorry, but it's not fun. And warning up for religion if any of you need it. I've established Santana's a Catholic. All of my versions of these women are religious in their particular ways.**

**Our four are 34 in this chapter.  
**

* * *

Irena Sokoll had pancreatic cancer, which was nearly always caught late and nearly inevitably fatal and was going to be for her. She'd taken her time until she was in hospice to call her friends to her. Bon was gone. They were her only family.

As soon as the call came, they'd all boarded a private plane and left the children with Puck and Girl Sam.

* * *

It was a quiet and gentle place. Brittany felt it immediately as they all met an older woman with salt and pepper hair and very kind eyes. "My name is Gena Farmington. I'm the head nurse in charge of Ms. Sokoll and I'm going to tell you what and what is not with her and what to expect."

She obviously knew who they were because they were so famous but they looked exactly the way un-famous people did visiting a dying loved one. Shocked, scared, anxious.

She made her voice even gentler than it already was, "Ms. Sokoll's in a tremendous amount of pain and she'll probably…I'm sorry. She told me I should be frank with you. She wouldn't let me give her morphine yesterday for her visit with your friends Mike and Tina or last night or today because she wants to be conscious and present for you. She's fully functional mentally and she'll talk like a bird right now but it's only the pain and her stubbornness that's keeping her body here. It's time for her and I'm sorry to say it will probably be today."

Rachel clapped her hand to her mouth and Brittany pulled her closer. Santana and Quinn stiffened themselves for what the woman would say next.

"What you come to understand when you do this job is that some people have a lot of will power, even if they're unconscious as she is not. They may want someone around them or want no one around them when they pass. When it's not a car crash or an accident, people often die as they need to. Some people hang on until they know someone's there; some people hang on until that one person's gone."

"Trust me, Ms. Sokoll will leave this world the way she wants to. She asked for you in time. That's a gift to all of you and for her. She said she wanted to see you individually and Ms. Berry first."

Rachel walked into the room and felt breathless seeing Irena looking so diminished by her illness. The woman had always been small. She was a skeleton now. Rachel forced tears back and said, as she grasped Irena's right hand, "Hi, you."

Irena smiled through what Rachel could see was hideous pain. "Hello, little one. My curtain time is soon. You understand?"

Rachel really tried not to cry but this time it wasn't working. "Yes. I do."

Irena slightly adjusted herself in the bed and Rachel helped her place a pillow behind her head.

"Thank you."

Rachel's tears fell with the woman's words but she scraped them off her cheeks.

Irena smiled, "Always the strong one."

Rachel tried to raise a smile. "Not always."

Irena took a ragged breath and smiled. "Always. It is nothing—this dying. I am old. I am pleased I do not have to wander backstage for years. I want a quick curtain call. You understand this, surely."

Rachel nodded and smiled. "I do. Thank you, Ms. Sokoll, for saving me in every way."

"I saved your life perhaps and enjoyed to do it. Broadway?" Irena, pained as she was, made the effort to shrug. "God gave me the happy fate to help you in what you deserved and would have happened even without me. I am so proud my heart sometimes breaks to think of you. You are a true artist and I have helped you. That, you must believe, has been one of the joys of my life."

Rachel gripped the woman's hand gently and Irena said, "I want to see my reprobate. I love you, Rachel Berry, but I will not see you again in this life. The next, I promise."

Rachel kissed her on the cheek and said, "I love you too and I'll hold you to that. I hope I'll have to wait a long time before I share a stage with you but when I get there—be ready."

Irena smiled and waved a tiny feathery hand, "When have I not been? Even for this."

Rachel took one last look, smiled, and called Santana in.

* * *

Santana sat in the chair next to Irena's bed with a thunderous glare as she took her hand, "I can't believe you're dying on us now, bitch."

Irena smiled. "I do not like to disappoint, reprobate, but yes. I'm dying."

Santana wanted to explode and did. Tears suddenly rained down her cheeks. "DON'T. Do not die!" Irena thought, in that moment, Santana looked exactly like the five year old she'd met who thought she could stand in front of the ocean and stop the tide. And perhaps realized how futile it all was because the younger woman said more quietly, "Please don't die, Ms. Sokoll. _Please._"

Irena smiled at her. "I am sorry but this choice is not mine. I have one thing to ask of you."

"Anything."

"Give me my last rites."

Santana pulled back. "Me?"

"Yes. You. I don't have time to ask for a Russian Orthodox priest and he would kill me with the boredom if he came. I don't need a little biscuit or oil. Do it for me."

Santana looked into the eyes of a woman she'd known forever, wiped her tears and her nose with one sleeve of her shirt. "I can't say last rites. It won't be official with..." She pointed at the ceiling.

"Say what you will then, Santana, and what has ever been official between us and God?"

Santana smiled sadly and had to acknowledge, "True dat."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for two very long minutes. Irena looked upon her solemn and teary face with deep fondness and love. When Santana opened her eyes, she made the sign of the cross as she stood. She looked as serious and stern as any priest Irena had ever encountered.

"Irena Sokoll, having examined your life and as you die, do you fully repent for your sins, both of commission and omission?"

"I do."

"Do you humbly pray for God's forgiveness and His grace, knowing He made you in His image, has suffered your hardships through his Son who died for you and has seen all of your sins against Him, against others and against yourself?"

"I do."

"Then let us both say the prayers He graced us with to our Lady and Father."

They recited the Hail Mary, an Our Father and Glory Be together.

Santana wiped her tears with a thumb and made the sign of the cross on Irena's forehead with those tears as she said, "As a believing person fully immersed in our holy apostolic church, I offer the tears God has chosen as a mark to give you absolution for your sins, Irena Sokoll. Your death will be a sinless return to the eternal bliss and comfort only God can give and you deserve." She crossed herself again as she said, "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen."

Irena took long and deep painful breaths before she said, "Amen. Thank you, Santana. I always knew you would have made a wonderful priest. You're a model after your maker—the good shepherd."

Santana smiled as tears again fell down her cheeks, "I do my best. I hope I did okay for you because you put me on the spot and I was totally fucking wingin' it thinking about what Father Andrew would say."

Irena laughed. "There you are again. You were all I could ever ask for, Santana Lopez."

Santana wiped her tears again. "Sorry about the language. It's just that I love you and I want to fight this but what do you do? If the bus is leaving and you gotta get on it, I understand. But just please take care of yourself up there until I get there. I'm a badass in this world. In the afterlife I'll take names if someone has messed with you, you know what I'm sayin'? I can't stand knowing I won't be up there to help you out even though you're a badass too. Just please take care of yourself and Britts if you have some sort of privileges. _Please_."

"I will take care of _you_, Santana Lopez, if I have privileges. You have been fated to take care of the rest for me. I love you more than I can say. Quinn next."

"Of course." Santana brushed the tears from her cheeks and kissed Irena on the forehead. "See you on some corner on the flip-side, Ms. Sokoll."

Irena laughed again through her pain.

* * *

Quinn walked in, smiled and took Irena's hand.

Irena waited and Quinn finally said, "I don't know what to say to you."

"You don't have to say words. I have words to say to you, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn sighed as she sat in the chair next to the bed, "Oh _God._ Not again."

Irena smiled through her pain and said, "Again. Pull the chair closer and listen to me. When you die and I hope it will be sixty years from now, remember dying gives you a captive audience and you can say whatever you want."

Quinn snorted and said "I_ will_ remember that." She situated the chair, looked Irena in the eyes and, again, took her hand.

"Have you ever ridden a horse, Quinn?"

'Okay, that was random' Quinn thought but she smiled, "Yes, I had riding lessons when I was a little girl."

"I, too, had them. When I was given time away from my dance, I stayed with my mother's mother and father in the country. They raised horses for farm work and for the racing. I know horses well. Most are plodders and many are stupidly pleasant but sometimes you meet a very sensitive and spirited, smart horse. I will tell you a fact. It is the work of the devil to give such a horse a brutal rider. A rider who controls with the reins pulling at a harsh bit in the mouth and commands with the whip and the spur. A rider who does not know this horse would do anything with nothing but kindness. To be trained by such a rider is an act of cruelty to any animal but especially to an exquisitely sensitive one. Do you know how this horse will act after this training?"

Quinn took a deep breath. "I know you're about to tell me."

"This horse will be wary all of its life. It will eat and drink because food and water are there. It will do what it must, will never sleep soundly and it will always flinch at even a kind hand. It will stand always apart even when it is with others. It will not trust itself or its life."

Quinn blinked her eyes and tears fell.

"You do not like me because I am so much like you, Quinn Fabray. We understand each other very well and you do not enjoy looking in a mirror, do you?"

"I despise it."

"Just so. I am dying so I will tell you this. It will not be today or next year. It may not be for years to come but you must give this part of you away. This part that is frightened to breathe, this part that hates living, this part that hates itself for existing. You should."

Quinn gave her a bitter smile, "Because you've done it?"

Irena smiled. "No. I never have but I had far more brutal riders and many, many more than you had. Note this. I am alone on my deathbed. I have no family. I have never had a romance. I have no one to call except you four and Michael. You have a wife, Santana and Brittany and your beautiful children. You have parents and friends who love you. I have nothing. That is what comes of being like we are. What saddens me is that you have so much but feel so distant from it. You have love and you have happiness but you rarely feel it. I know this. I _know _you."

Quinn lowered her head. "I don't think it's something I can change, Ms. Sokoll. I think this is who I am."

"You are what life has made you, Quinn Fabray. You are still young. I am only saying that you might find your life can make you someone happier if you work very ferociously to let it. It will take time and I pray you have many years to see this change. I will work on your case in the afterlife."

Quinn squeezed Irena's hand gently. "Thank you."

"You are welcome."

Quinn took a deep breath, "I respect and admire you, Ms. Sokoll."

Irena smiled, "I know you do. You also love me. When I am dead, you will know that. I am saying this now so you cannot add not saying it to your guilt mountain. Trust I will die knowing that."

Irena pulled Quinn's hand up and kissed it. "One last thing before Brittany. You will find very soon you are tired of your profession. Do not hesitate to retire."

"_What_? _You_ were the one who said I should act."

"So I did and so you did. You are very accomplished and it has served you well. Perhaps soon not so well. I am saying when you tire of feeling like a circus horse, retire. Have I been wrong with you yet?"

Quinn glared at her. "No. And that's irritating."

"If you lift one eyebrow as you scowl at me, I will have a snapshot of you I can take to my grave."

Quinn lifted an eyebrow.

"Perfect."

Quinn rolled her eyes but then leaned forward and gently pulled Irena into her arms. "I do love you. I've grown up enough not to wait to say it when I already know it and feel it. I think that's a start for me. Thank you."

Irena hugged Quinn more tightly than seemed possible for such a fragile person. "I love you more than you know. But you will know as you get older. When in doubt, always, always be gentler with yourself, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn pulled away and smiled, "I'll try."

"No. Do or do not. There is no try."

Quinn barked out a laugh. "Did you just seriously quote Yoda to me on your deathbed?"

Irena waved a hand, "I spent countless years with my reprobate. One hears things."

* * *

Brittany was holding Rachel and Santana's hands as they cried and watched Quinn come out of the room, sad for sure but somehow she looked happy. Good. Ms. Sokoll must have told her something cool. Brittany kissed her wife and Rachel on their cheeks, crossed the room and said very quietly, "Ms. Gena, I'm going to go into Irena's room and visit. If it's okay, in about twenty minutes please bring her morphine. She'll take it with me. She wanted to see my friends but I'm the person she's been waiting for, okay? She wanted to say stuff to them but she doesn't need to say anything to me. I'm her bestie."

Gena looked into Brittany's soft blue eyes and nodded.

Brittany was completely dismayed to see her teacher and friend so sick. But she smiled and kicked off her shoes. She got into the hospital bed and positioned Irena so the ailing woman was draped across her and had her head against Brittany's chest.

"I know that hurt. I'm really sorry."

Irena took deep breaths. "I can always accept pain."

"I know that too. I know you super love me but I have to ask you something because Nurse Gena told me your body's crazy tired so I'll just say it. Do you want to die by yourself or with me? She's bringing pain medicine soon but we have time. Do you want me with you? I'm totes not scared, Irena, and I'd like to be with you if that's okay."

"I want you with me."

Brittany held her and smiled. "Good. I'll tell you what heaven's going to be for you, okay?"

Irena smiled, hearing the strong thumping of Brittany's lovely heart.

"You'll go away from here and nothing will hurt. You'll be in a park in spring-time. Flowers will be going crazy everywhere but it'll just be chilly enough to be snuggly with a sweater. You'll be only 19 years old and you'll be pretty and healthy and totally free. It won't be like your days in Russia or even in New York. You won't have to dance to live but you can dance if you want to. You remember that song?"

Irena sighed, "Safety Dance. Your terrible person put it on my iPOD as a joke I believe. On my deathbed, I will admit I may have danced to it privately on more than one occasion."

Brittany chuckled. "I'm totally telling San that. Okay, in heaven you'll walk through the park toward a lake and there will be a park bench in front of it and tons of pigeons. And you won't believe it but your friend Konstantine will be there waiting for you. You almost won't recognize him because he'll be 19 years old too and you never saw him except as an old man. But when he smiles at you, you'll know him. He'll show you he has bread for the pigeons and a chess board all set up for you guys to play. You'll get to be totally happy with the boy you didn't have here but you will there. You guys will walk around and introduce each other to your friends and your family but you'll always come back to the park bench."

Brittany ran one hand over Irena's arm. "One day, years and years from now, you'll see a little girl. She'll be six years old and she'll want to help you feed the birds. That will be Santana and you'll remember her and hug her and introduce her to Konstantine. You'll be really nice to her because you know she's not used to being without me. After more time, you'll see another six year old and that will be Quinn who will look totally happy like you never saw her here and you guys will hang out. Then one day you'll see the tiniest little six year old ever and you'll want to scoop Rachel up and hold her and you should. She'll be so happy to see you guys and Konstantine will love her. And then after that and I don't know when, a massive flock of ducks will fly into the park and run the pigeons off and they'll sit paddling in the water and you'll know I'm on my way. I'll be crazy happy to see all you guys and then we'll all get to grow up together again all over again."

Irena smiled, "That does actually sound like heaven."

Brittany smiled. "Right? I know things."

"I've always known that."

Gena knocked on the door and entered. "Ms. Sokoll, Ms. Pierce-Lopez said you might like some morphine now. Is that okay?"

Irena nodded, "Perfectly."

Gena smiled, "Good. As always, open your mouth, under your tongue." The nurse pushed a liquid dose of morphine under Irena's tongue. "Do you want a little sip of ginger ale to cut the taste?"

"Please."

Gena held a cup and Irena drank from the straw. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. You know that'll help almost immediately."

Irena blinked heavily, "It already is. Thank you Gena." She vaguely waved a hand. "For all of this."

Gena smiled warmly, "You're welcome. It's been my pleasure and I'm so glad your family's here."

Irena's speech was already impaired. "I…yes. Yes."

Gena patted Brittany's arm. "She'll sleep now. I'll leave you two alone."

Brittany smiled at her and watched the nurse close the door.

Brittany felt Irena's body become heavier as the morphine lessened her motor control. "Irena?"

The woman took a deep breath. "Yes."

"I sort of think you need to die now but don't be scared, okay? It won't be hard because I totally have you. I won't let you fail or fall."

Irena blinked her eyes and pushed out the words. "Yes…love."

Brittany didn't cry. "Yes. Love."

Brittany held her for what seemed like a very long time and listened as Irena's breathing became steadily shallower and then she felt the woman's skin under her hands become instantaneously and subtly cooler.

No breath.

She was gone.

Brittany closed her eyes and felt her own heart pounding harder. She opened her eyes and nodded before she said, "See that? You did great. I know you're still in the room, Irena, but don't hang around here. I'm totally super sad right now but I'll be okay and I'll take care of everybody. I promise. Go—go find Konstantine. He's waiting for you in the park."

She kissed Irena's cheek.

And didn't cry.

* * *

**A/N I have more than a passing acquaintance with hospice care nurses and ****hospice with loved ones. And yes, sublingual morphine hits an emaciated and dying person like a freight train just that fast. Been there, administered that. **

******That said? **The end of your life can be just as important as the beginning. The middle part? As boring and as much of a pain in the ass as it sometimes is? The whole living part? LIVE! 

**Later, gators…**


	95. Chapter 95

**Chapter One Disclaimers Apply. **

**Remember this story ended a long ago time ago in a galaxy far, far away. **

**Age 30 Lima, Ohio. Thanksgiving play date. Another throw-away although your thoughts are always welcome.**

* * *

It was toddler central at Rachel's fathers' house. The whole Glee club was meeting for Thanksgiving festivities but as Rachel had arranged, all the club members with children were having a play date the morning of. Artie and Erica had brought Hannah and their new addition, Arthur, Jr. Mike and Tina had brought Britts and Cohen. Rachel had invited, as promised, Jacob ben Israel and Amy, and they'd brought Ephraim and Naomi. They also had Little Quinn, Little Noah and Berry roaming the premises. They all thanked cheesus Mercedes and Matt, infant free, had brought Mama Jones to help wrangle them. Her name was Mary and she didn't play. The kids all looked at her and just knew something. She looked at the varying ages of the children, from 18 months to four years old and said, "You people can't be serious. Thanksgiving with all these damn babies? You out your minds."

She proceeded to get busy, though, and wrangled, show-stopped and did her magic. She was a toddler whisperer by sheer force of personality. Matt was a little alarmed. She was his mother-in-law and he loved her but, damn, she was scary. Especially when she was holding a little 18 month old Artie and looked at him like a woman on a mission. A mission called where are MY damn grandchildren? Mercedes watched this, just as scared as Matt was, but she had to laugh. Time to get busy, evidently.

* * *

Finn and Jessica showed up a little late for the play date. Everyone smiled and shouted their hellos at their entrance. Jessica was holding little Finn and apologized. "Sorry we're late but we—or actually it was just me got caught up in what would be nice for him to wear."

Finn ducked his head and Rachel felt a deep sense of affection for him and understanding for his wife. It had to be hard for Jessica to interact with two famous people he'd dated. She jumped up with true delight seeing the little boy in Jessica's arms and said, "Oh my God! I've seen pictures but I have to see the real thing!"

She looked at the boy dressed in jeans and an Iron Man sweatshirt and said again, "Of course he's an Iron Man. He's a little Finn! Can I hold him? Please?"

Jessica nodded and handed over her nearly two year old.

Rachel held him and looked at him and as he smiled at her she said again, "Oh my God." She looked up at his tall father and friend. "He has your dimples, Finn! Quinn, come look!"

Quinn joined her wife and looked at the child smiling up at them. She was astonished that she felt what she did. It only took the presence of this adorable kid to feel affection without jealousy and to remember the Finn she'd actually loved in her own way. "He's amazing, Finn. Jessica? He's completely Finn but he has your eyes." She felt tears well in her eyes.

Quinn took him from Rachel's arms and held him to her chest and sing-songed lightly, "Little baby Finn. A little tiny Finn, a little baby Finn."

She held the boy gently but tightly and closed her eyes and Finn was shocked to see tears run down her cheeks. She was the first girl he'd ever loved and the first woman he'd believed was carrying his child. He swallowed hard, stunned because he suddenly saw, with just this action—all of that baby stuff between them had maybe actually meant something to her even though she'd betrayed and hurt him. She was holding his son so happily, like the little guy really meant something to her. He knew Rachel had loved him in high school. He hadn't been able to believe maybe Quinn had loved him a little bit, too.

Quinn opened her eyes, wiped her cheeks with one hand and winked at Finn. She smirked and made everything easy, when she had always made things so hard. "Lucky him. He doesn't even know he'll be Frankenteen in about 15 years, buddy-boy."

Seeing Quinn actually cry over his child had made Finn tear up. He wiped his eyes and smiled. "Right?"

Rachel rushed forward because she knew Quinn needed an emotion break, so she stepped between them and hugged Finn tightly. "I'm so happy for you!" She held out a hand and clasped Jessica's as she spoke from Finn's embrace. "I don't have words for this, Jessica. And Finn can tell you when I can't talk it means something."

Finn squeezed Rachel tighter and then let her go. "True. Alright, Q, gimme my guy."

Quinn laughed and looked up at him, "I don't know whether I want to, Hudson. He's cuter than his dad and that's a really hard thing to be."

Finn blushed and laughed. "Gimme my kid, Quinn."

She handed him over to Finn as he really looked at her. Jessica was going to be his wife forever. Rachel actually was the love of his life and Quinn was someone or somehow, something importantly else. A something else like a test he'd never been able to pass but he'd just found out she'd graded him on a curve.

Quinn looked up into his eyes and just smiled at him. "Our kids are out of diapers. Don't you and Jess hate us 'cause we got it like that.'" She winked again at him. He winked back and smiled down at his son and cooed, "Frankenteen, Frankenteen…"

* * *

The parents were making both a traditional and vegan feast but Vinnie had the grill going in the back yard for people who wanted a bit of barbequed turkey and grilled veggies. They'd rented and set out many tables end to end to make one long, long table and had rented standing heat lamps to take some of the chill out of the air. Eric rushed into the yard with a camera and said, "I'll be taking a thousand pictures of every one of these gorgeous children. But I want just one commemorating how hard you people have made things for us naming them the way you have. I don't have much time or Jake'll burn something but let's get it people!"

"Noah-Noah, Artie-Artie, Britts-Britts, Finn-Finn, Berry-Berry, Cohen Chang-Cohen Chang, Quinn Quinn." The parents involved just laughed. Okay. Yeah. It was a little ridiculous. They all lined up and held their namesakes, Eric took a few pictures and said "Find some new names and I can feel my man scalding my cranberry orange sauce. Later!"

* * *

He rushed back into the kitchen to find Jacob had pulled the huge pot of sauce and it was cooling on the stove top. Judy shot a look at Eric that sort of suggested she'd told Jacob do so. Jake stirred a vat of vegan gravy and sniffed before saying, "I know what you're thinking. I'm not a culinary artist but I do know how to take a pot off a source of heat, thank you very much, Eric Berry."

Judy was putting the finishing touches on four enormous bowls of what looked like an acre of green salad. She grinned as Eric nodded and kissed his husband's head. "I didn't doubt that for a moment."

Jacob's mouth dropped open. "You just said that? To me? And believed I'd believe that?"

Judy stifled a laugh.

Jacob had come first, of course, for Eric. But so much of Rachel was exactly him and so much of Berry was exactly her, it sometimes made a feedback loop in his brain. He couldn't have felt more grateful in his life.

He kissed Jacob, and said, "Happy Thanksgiving, baby boy. I love you and I'm so happy today."

Jacob smiled and turned back to his gravy with a fierce and determined expression on his face. "I love you as well and I'm happier than you are but you shouldn't interrupt me with strong feelings while I'm cooking. Goal-setting and concentration are the two keys to everything in life!"

Eric took a picture of him stirring the gravy and laughed again when Jacob said, "That wasn't my good side!"

* * *

Burt, Carole, Kurt and David came next and greeted everyone before Burt made a beeline to Finn and said, "Gimme my grandson, son," as he took him from Finn's arms into his own. Burt was completely in love with Finn, Jr. Passing years had made it gradually and then completely okay for Finn to hear Burt call him 'son'. As Burt took little Finn, big Finn looked across the yard to Rachel and Eric, who had emerged from the kitchen to refresh the ice for the drinks table. They were laughing about something. Eric was so much her daddy it was scary even though he really wasn't biologically.

Finn grinned a little just looking at the man. Eric had come to every one of his football games after the whole dumbass stuff he'd done with Rachel way back when and always made it a point to wait for him and talk to him after. Burt always came to his games with his mom and Kurt did, too. Burt was always there for Kurt _and_ for him. It had taken Finn a long time to accept he had a real family. His mom, a real dad and a real brother. Burt loved him and treated him exactly like any good dad would, Finn guessed, and it was Burt and Eric he looked at to see the sort of dad he should be.

* * *

Kurt watched emotions flow across Finn's face as he looked at their father and his nephew. He was so proud of his brother. He smiled at the man before Mary Jones stepped next to him holding little Artie in her arms and said conspiratorially, "I guess I'm about the only older person here thinking where's my grandbaby, right? Don't think I don't know you and David can have babies with a surrogate. Rachel didn't just get brought by some damn stork." She glared at him and he paled. Mercedes' mother had been a fixture of and in his life nearly all his life. This sounded like a command. He half-smiled and said, "David and I have given thought to it."

"Think harder, Kurt."

He'd learned certain manners from her. "Yes, ma'am."

She lowered her voice, "We both know my baby girl can be a little lazy but you've been my baby boy, too, since the second I met you when you were both six years old and neither of you have changed a damn bit. Divas who don't know they need to work for it. Look at me, boy."

He did. His eyes were saucers.

"I'd be just as happy with a grandbaby from you and David if she and Matt don't get their triflin' asses going. Don't think your father doesn't want a little you around and that you and David wouldn't be the best fathers anybody could have. Just like your father is. If God wills it, it'll happen. If it doesn't, it doesn't. I'm not a fool and I know I can't make anything happen against His and yours but just think about it."

He nodded as he thought, if God existed, Mary Jones might actually be able to make things happen against His will. He frantically wondered how it would be possible to subtly_ imply _without actually literally saying to Mercedes, 'Please, for the love of all that's holy, have unprotected sex with your husband as frequently as you can.'

He smiled a frightened smile at Mary and said again, "Yes, ma'am."

She looked at the mob and handed little Artie to Kurt. "Hold this damn baby. Ephraim's showing out."

Kurt took the boy and looked down into his eyes. He'd gone to school with Artie forever and his friend had helped his wife make this tiny little person, who looked exactly like a little Artie even without glasses in his tiny jeans and a Dr. Who vest over a long-sleeved shirt. He rocked the baby in place, looked out at the congregation and David smiled at him.

Mary took Ephraim from Amy who seemed slightly ashamed the little guy was crying so loudly. Mary looked at him and said to her, "This boy is only cutting up because he's tired, girl. He just needs some naptime." She lowered her brows and said to Amy quietly, "Girls stay up all night. Boys fall out. Men have all the strength we don't but we have all the perseverance they don't. We can't do what they do but they can't do what we do. He's a good boy. He's just tired." Amy beamed at her.

Mary held the child in one arm and pointed a finger at Kurt with little Artie and Burt with little Finn, "Those two baby boys'll act out in about ten minutes. They need a nap. Round them up and let's take them upstairs! C'mon." She perused the rest. "Rachel, keep an eye on Berry—she's gonna try to hijack Hannah or Naomi or both of them to do something none of them should. She's got a gleam in her eye just like yours." Before Rachel could argue, Mary said, "Puckerman, keep an eye on those boys of yours. They're yours so you should know something. If they act out, they need some naptime."

He nodded. She looked at the Cohen Chang children who were both blissfully sleeping in Brittany's arms. She was rocking them back and forth gently in a rocking chair. Mary said, "I think those two will be just fine, Brittany."

Brittany nodded and said, "Totally. Asian kids rule."

Mike said, "Right?"

Tina face-palmed and laughed.

* * *

Later, after naptime, Santana looked around the Berry den that was opened up to and spilling into their back yard and said. "There are too many fucking babies in this house. I blame you, hobbs."

"It's a play date, Santana."

"Right. Ha ha. Play date. Play dates are for kids who can fucking really walk, midget. That's our kids and Jacob's. They're walking danger zone investigators themselves but the rest need little football helmets on their heads or they could…fuck—what couldn't they do to hurt themselves, Rachel?"

Rachel could feel Santana was actually really a little angry and suddenly felt a stabbing sense of guilt. Of course. Their children and Jacob's were the oldest and toddled around easily but Santana was still always wary for them. Now the woman was in overdrive watching the other younger children to make sure they didn't fall or bump their heads. The fact Mary was watching and the children's parents were watching their offspring didn't matter at all. Rachel had sprung the play date idea on Quinn at the last moment after she'd already made the invitations and she could see her wife had thought it was a bad one but wouldn't say why.

Rachel realized with a horrible sinking feeling of 'stupid!stupid!stupid!'. She had just been thinking fun! Let's see all the kids! She should have given serious thought about what this would mean to Santana. A complete inability to relax and enjoy anything. She also knew was no way to fix it now or even really address it with her.

Santana could read exactly what Rachel was thinking as if she were saying it out loud, took a deep breath and said as if it wasn't the big deal they both knew it was, "I know you invited the kids as a damn appetizer, Rach, but you invited them for dinner! Now we gots creepy crawlers all over your daddys' house! How are we gonna feed all these little fuckers at Thanksgiving? Your poor daddies and Judy are cooking like fuck but only Ms. Jones knows what to do with ten damn babies and she's ripshit pissed none of them are hers!"

Rachel accepted Santana's giving her a graceful exit from fucking up majestically and said, "You know that you curse more now that you can't curse in front of the kids, don't you?"

"No shit. Of course I do. I gots to express myself sometime."

Rachel sighed, smiled and hugged Santana, who said, "Get the fuck off me dwarf! Are you hearing me about all these ankle biters?"

Rachel tightened her hug and said, "Yes, Santana I hear you about the ankle biters. I'll keep an eye on them, too. I promise. I understand what you mean."

Santana huffed but settled into the hug. "You're fucking grounded, Frodo."

"How so?"

"Like Ima about to put you on the ground?"

Rachel kissed Santana on the cheek because they both knew the complete impossibility of that.

Santana rolled her eyes, pulled out of the hug, crossed her arms and shook her head. "After fucktons of years I still can't believe Quinn brought you home from the pound."

"You love me."

"No. I wanna kill you right now."

"Which means you love me."

"I don't even know why I talk to you sometimes."

* * *

At that same moment, Quinn was talking to Puck and Girl Sam. Quietly. "For God's sake, full-tilt baby patrol and not just for ours. Keep an eye on all of these kids and move first or Santana will have a stroke." Puck grabbed her and kissed her on her temple. "Will do, hot-stuff."

She allowed it even as she said, "Pig, your wife's right here."

Girl Sam smiled, "I actually think you're even hotter than he does but you're the mother of his first-born so you get extra points."

Quinn quietly adored Girl Sam but said, "I'm studiously ignoring the fact your husband married a taller, smarter and prettier female version of himself right now. Puck—look at San and know something."

He took one look at Santana and said. "O-_kay_. Red zone. Got it and on it. C'mon Sam."

* * *

Tina and Mike plucked their sleeping children from Brittany.

Mike said, "Thanks for giving us a break."

"No problem. I always think they're my kids, too, sort of, because one is sort of little Mike and one is little me, right?"

Tina smiled at her, "Absolutely."

"Tina, I know you can take care of Cohen and Baby B but Mike, could you do me a favor?"

"Sure thing."

"Watch the other kids. Don't tell but San's scared for them. You know how she is."

"Got it. Okay, Tina?"

"Of course. No worries on this front. We have quiet, smart Asian kids, right?"

Mike beamed as he took off and Tina shook her head. The whole Asian thing never failed with him.

* * *

Boy Sam and Toby, Lauren and some super hot guy named Luke had joined them.

Quinn was standing next to Rachel and whispering, "I appreciate the fact all the Gleeks wanted to have Thanksgiving with us and that our parents have been willing to be chained in the kitchen for two days. I also appreciate they've basically set a table that'll seat about 200 people including ten toddlers. That said, I'm feeling a little bad right now for them and for Mary because we could have catered this but instead we said, "Happy Thanksgiving! You're officially serfs for two days!"

Rachel looked at the gathered hoard and smiled at it. She lowered her voice, "I don't think you understand something, baby. They're your fathers, too, but nothing on Earth still makes the fathers of the girl I_ used_ _to be_ happier than the fact so many people would actually come to our house as my_ friends_. Nothing makes me happier. I didn't have it for so long and they still feel and remember that and I do, too. It makes them happy to see I'm so loved. They didn't want it catered. They wanted to give love back."

Quinn lowered her head and Rachel said, "You don't get to feel guilty about that. It's just a fact. And, by the way, nothing makes Judy happier than to see you surrounded by people who love you, too. They're doing this and they're enjoying it because they love to see us happy." Rachel looked up at her and smiled, "And I_ am_ so happy and so thankful. You've filled my life with love. Not just yours, which is the most amazing gift I've ever had but look at what else you've given me…"

Quinn looked at gathering and, when she forced herself down from her anxiety, took her Lopez 'what the fuck with all these kids' blinders off and her Fabray 'how is this going to be a perfectly etiquette-intact gathering' blinders off and just looked at the people? It was a magnificent, roiling, tumultuous mass of happy people. It was going to be messy and loud and imperfect and even she could see from the smiles of the crowd nobody would care. She realized in that moment maybe she didn't have to, either. She took a deep breath and said, "Fine. But what's in it for Ms. Jones?"

Rachel smiled at the crowd. "My sixth sense is pinging. I predict a Jones/Brown baby in the next year or a Hummel/Karofsky child."

Quinn laughed at the truth of that, thought, then did a double take, and said quietly but firmly, "You are NOT carrying Kurt's baby, Rachel Berry."

Rachel smiled at their milling crowd of friends. "I can promise I will not. Can you imagine his zillions of sperm wanting the spotlight with my one egg knowing it was, after all, the only important thing in the room, so to speak?"

Quinn took a deep breath. "Because I have to eat later, I'll pretend I didn't just hear that."

Rachel hugged her and kissed her on the cheek and said, "I'm sorry I ruined Thanksgiving for Santana. I know I did."

Quinn smiled at the crowd. "She'll be okay. She won't be able to eat much today but me and Britts will make a plate for her and I'll make her eat it tomorrow. Protein shake tonight."

Rachel's eyes swam with tears, "I'm really sorry."

Quinn smiled and kissed her forehead, "It's okay. She hates turkey."

* * *

Quinn had done the quick hug thing with Sam when they'd arrived and had met Toby but he approached her to help set the table for the feast. "It's really nice to meet you Quinn."

Quinn gave him her bedazzler smile and he jerked his head back. He'd seen her in movies but this was different. "Wow. You can just do that? That smile thing?"

She laughed as she put cutlery down by each plate. "I _can_. And I can see Sam has a type."

He smiled back at her, "What's that?"

"Pretty people with pretty green or nearly green eyes."

"I'm not nearly as pretty as you are."

Quinn dazzled him again with a smile, "Oh, I'd beg to differ." She faced him. "I can see you love my boy, Toby. I loved him in my fashion before you did and he keeps in touch with me. He's really happy with you so keep treating him well, please. It makes me really happy to know he's happy so keep that in mind."

Toby laughed. "Sam said you'd do that."

"What?"

"Sort of vaguely threaten me."

She continued to place more cutlery and didn't look at him. "Sort of—but what I was really saying was take care of his heart because if you can't? Please let me know first so I can be there if you have to break it. He will never break yours and I will always take care of him and his."

Toby smiled because, after meeting every one of the Gleeks and especially Puck, Santana and Rachel, he could see Sam had really ferociously loving friends. Quinn seemed like the most ferocious, even though she was stating it so quietly and plainly. Although he'd never had any doubts about Sam, he wasn't such a fool he didn't know a man couldn't have so many loving friends on his side if he wasn't worth it. He lowered his voice, "Can you keep a secret?"

Quinn smiled at him, "Of course."

"I have a fantastic guy ring. I'm going to propose to him on Christmas Eve."

Quinn's jaw dropped and then she surprised him by leaping into his arms and holding him in a hug that wrapped one arm around his shoulder and one around his head so tightly he couldn't believe it. She whispered and he knew it was and wasn't for him to hear, "Oh thank you God, thank you God, thank you God, thank you so much God."

He swung her around twice, knowing this meant a little more for her than he could ever understood but then let her down gently. He also knew, just looking at her, that the best thing to do was to ignore that and continue to set the table. They had a secret and they would both keep it. But he smiled at her as he did so. She smiled shyly back at him.

As Quinn placed the forks and knives and spoons and looked at the man helping her, she could scarcely believe it. God had made every single boy whose heart she'd really hurt happy.

* * *

The kids weren't rampant because Girl Sam, Santana, Brittany and Mary wrangled everybody shorter than Rachel, so the parents all seemed to think they had a night off. Mike and Puck were riding the fences, so to speak, keeping any kid from going too far astray. What was funny was that David Karofsky sat down in a recliner and the tinier kids just gravitated to him and climbed on top of him and he gathered them up and held them. Nearly every single one fell asleep on top of him. He closed his eyes, awash with little people who actually understood the fact of him and trusted him.

When they finally all sat down to eat it was nearing dusk. The rule had originally been, bring something your kid can sit and eat in. The new rule was to feed your own kids and babysit them for the rest of the day. Rachel had marched around and announced it. Rachel, Girl Sam and Puck would be helping feed their kids.

* * *

The parents had strung overhead, between the trees, red paper Japanese lanterns with a few paper turkey lanterns that all glowed in the waning light. Jacob was at one end of the table and Eric was at the other. Eric raised his hand, "Before we eat, I'd like to take time to thank God for the love and the lives of everyone at this table. I thank God for all of you but especially my Jacob, my baby girl Rachel, my baby girl Quinn, the joy of Judy and the joy Vinnie has given her life. You all have blessed us with your presence today and I won't forget the love I feel from all of you toward my family and for each other."

Jacob said, "I'm really not equal to saying what I feel about seeing my husband, our daughters, our grandchildren, Judy and Vinnie, Noah and Sam. The rest of you are family as well. I hope as you enjoy your meal you will think of the things you have to be thankful for and for the love that has sometimes been hard-won between you but has brought you together to this table today. For looking beyond the past, enjoying each other in your present and looking forward to your future, I can only say mazel tov! Let's eat!"

The food was delicious, the lanterns gave perfect lighting. The temperature was crisp and everyone ate until they were past full and then they had dessert which made them all way past full.

* * *

Berry clambered out of her chair which made her about table level and said, short as she was. "I feel the need to sing!"

Everyone knew that was a command.

Rachel patted Berry's head. "Okay baby. What do you want to sing?"

"_Tio_ Kurt played me some mash-ups and explained them so I know two songs I mashed like potatoes for dinner."

Santana scowled at Kurt but smiled at Berry. "Okay. Hit it, Ber."

"I don't have music so this will be _a capella_." Berry took ten steps back. "I'm sorry but I project."

Rachel forced herself not to laugh at herself.

The little girl had undeniable pitch, projection and presence as she sang, paused and gave each verse the rhythm it needed.

_Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high  
There's a land that I've heard of once in a lullaby.  
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue  
And the dreams that you dare to dream,  
Really do come true._

Berry smiled at the red lanterns strung between the trees in the backyard.

_I see trees of green  
Red roses too  
I'll watch them bloom for me and you  
And I think to myself  
What a wonderful world  
_

Berry looked up at the sky as she sang.

_Someday I'll wish upon a star  
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me  
Where trouble melts like lemon drops  
High above the chimney tops  
That's where you'll find me_

_Somewhere over the rainbow bluebirds __fly  
Birds fly over the rainbow  
Why then, oh why can't I?_

Berry smiled at the people at the table again.

_I see skies of blue  
Clouds of white  
The brightness of day  
The dark sacred night  
And I think to myself  
What a wonderful world  
__  
The colors of the rainbow,  
So pretty in the sky.  
Are also on the faces,  
Of people going by,  
I see friends shaking hands.  
Saying, "How do you do?"  
They're really saying,  
"I love you"._

_Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high  
There's a land that I've heard of once in a lullaby.  
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue  
And the dreams that you dare to dream,  
Really do come true._

Berry smiled at the other kids at the table.

_I hear babies cry and watch them grow,  
They'll learn much more  
Than I'll ever know  
And I think to myself  
What a wonderful world. _

_What a wonderful world._

Lauren's date, Luke, had whispered as the girl sang, "Fuck me." Lauren whispered, "Seen it all before. Trust me. Tell you later."

Kurt wiped his eyes as he whispered, "Holy crap, it really is her again," to Mercedes as Berry did a slight curtsey as everyone clapped uproariously.

Eric smiled and wiped tears from his eyes as he said. "Thank you very much, Berry. What a wonderful world indeed."

Everyone had survived the day and everything was going to be okay tonight, Santana thought as _she_ wiped tears from her eyes, and so she began to eat the cold food on her plate like a starving prisoner someone would take it away from.

Quinn grabbed her plate. "For God's sake, lefty, let me microwave it at least." As she took the plate to the kitchen, Santana scowled at a sea of quizzical faces. "What? I eats when I eat."

Brittany exhaled because she'd been worried all day. This was good.

They all listened as Berry tugged on Rachel's blouse, "Mommy Rachel, was my pitch okay?"

Rachel smiled down at her little child. "It was perfect, wasn't it little Noah, little Quinn?"

They nodded and smiled.

This tiny kid had just done wonders for all of them but they heard her ask, "I think I need to work on my phrasing, though, don't you?"

"Your phrasing was perfect and, anyway, you don't have to worry about that, sweetheart. You have plenty of time for that."

Berry stamped a foot, "I'm already four, Mommy Rachel, and I'm still not ready." She was completely serious and completely worried.

Every person at the table who'd known Rachel all those years ago could see her now through the lens of adulthood and this child. Rachel _had_ been a brat but not. She hadn't ever been anything but herself.

Rachel picked up her mini-me and gave her a little bite of her leftover vegan pumpkin pie. "You have lots of time, Berry. See all these people who are my friends?"

Berry nodded.

"I sang with them when I was lots of years older than you. I was a better singer than all of them when I was four, too. You have plenty of time to be better than everybody. Doesn't she, guys?"

All of the Gleeks laughed and rolled their eyes but Santana lifted her glass. "So say we all!"

They lifted theirs and said as they laughed, "So say we all!"

Quinn arrived with Santana's warmed plate. "Okay. What'd I miss?"

Mercedes was still laughing as she said, "Rachel being Rachel about Berry being Berry."

Quinn patted Santana's shoulder and said to Rachel, "I can't leave you alone for a moment."

Rachel smiled up at her, "I'd never want you to."

"Okay. Gag me." Santana said through a mouthful of stuffing, which was almost her favorite food on Earth. "News flash. I ordered a ton of pro people coming to clean up after this deal because no way in hell Eric, Jacob, Judy and Vinnie are doing it. We also have some people coming to put up a screen so we can watch a movie if you're interested. And we have a few baby-sitters with effin national security clearance if you wanna stay for the movie."

"I got tired people," she said as she plopped more stuffing in her mouth, "of all you people worrying about the food and the clean-up and the babies." Every single one of the people she was talking to knew she was talking about herself. "So I got on the phone. They'll be all CIA about it and won't be obtrusive so let's enjoy the rest of Thanksgiving. And somebody better have saved me some pumpkin pie, bitc—bizzles."

She glared at her plate, "Not cursing will kill me before cholesterol."

Brittany smiled. Everyone smiled. Happy Thanksgiving!

**A/N As I said, a throwaway. But I hope some of you enjoyed it.** **And, again, please don't write and say kids can't remember song lyrics. My mom was a real singer and I was singing standards before I was five.** **And yes, we talked about pitch and phrasing before I was five. **


	96. Chapter 96

**A/N Disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

**Micro Chapter**

**I know. Long time, no hear from. I'm not…quite finished. **

**3 Times Quinn Was Happy Part 1 **

**(Parts 2 & 3 to come) This chapter and the next two will reference chapters you people who actually like this story will remember. It's a sort of walk-through of what you've already read. **

**One song reference:youtube**

**watch?v=RS_ux2H473I You should hear it if you're not familiar with the song.  
**

**And you people should listen to that song on GP (smiling and I love you). Hope you enjoy this little dip in the ocean of 'the story is over—but the author's still talking.' Hi, ScorpioP, Soulsworker and Brabkeb.**

* * *

**Age Six**

Quinn glared at her lunch. Rachel Berry was going to sing at their weekly dorky school chorus practice. She just knew it. The teacher would let anyone sing by themselves and Rachel always asked to. She'd sing and Quinn would want to hit her for looking around the room with her big stupid brown eyes that would sometimes look at hers and make her not be able to breathe.

She hated chorus but she had to take it because her father said as long as they sang nice songs it was good for her school record electives, whatever they were. She was already team cheering for electives.

And sure enough, Rachel sang. The chorus teacher played along on her stupid piano. Even Quinn could hear the teacher was not as good as Rachel.

Rachel was singing 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow.' Quinn had seen the movie four times and she liked the song but didn't like the movie. Her mommy and Toni did but she was afraid of the witch who was sort of also that woman on that bike in the tornado and she hated the flying monkeys.

She liked the song more when Rachel sang it. For once, Rachel didn't look around the room. She just sang.

Quinn closed her eyes.

It felt like church would be if you didn't have to be pretty in your dress and smile and sit exactly right. If you could just sit and listen. That would be so nice. Everyone in Sunday school always told her how much Jesus loved her but they never, ever shut up and just let her listen so maybe she could hear Him.

She listened. Rachel was singing.

Quinn heard how nice things could be somewhere.

Over the rainbow, Daddy wouldn't always talk about how pretty she was. He wouldn't make Toni feel so bad all the time and then maybe Toni would like her. Maybe Mommy would talk to her instead of just smiling at her. Maybe. Maybe she wouldn't be so scared and sad all the time. All the time. All the time.

As Rachel sang, behind Quinn's closed eyes, she could imagine in that sound a place where all of that was true.

And for the maybe three plus minutes it took, hearing Rachel's soaring voice, she could totally imagine it _was_ true. It felt like she was maybe what people meant when they said they were happy and in whatever heaven was supposed to be like. She felt so weightless. So peaceful. For a few minutes and then the sound was gone. She opened her eyes. It was over. Like a splash of cold water in her face.

Rachel was smiling at the class and Quinn hated her so much. So much. For making her hear heaven and then taking it away and leaving her all alone, again, in first grade.

* * *

**Age Twelve**

**Valentine's Day**

It had been a ridiculous thing to do. Putting that stupid Valentine's card in Berry's locker. When Quinn opened her own locker at the end of the school day, seeing it shoved right back in her face made her feel like she'd been pushed under water. By Berry.

Again.

She read it and saw the xo and the little gold stars. She felt…what? For a few seconds, her heart felt strange. She smiled, despite herself, even though she knew it was only a really smart-assed reply to her bitch-ass valentine.

Still.

It was weird.

Was_ that _what people felt on Valentine's Day? She'd never known what the big deal was. Was_ this_ the big deal?

To be a little happy and a little excited? Seeing a hug and a kiss from your valentine?

And two stars…for what. Two stars. For what?

She hesitantly, breathlessly, traced them with one finger and felt something so…so bewildering and…

Fuck Berry!

Fuck her!

She crumpled the valentine in one hand but jammed it in her bag as she slammed her locker shut. She hated her. She hated her!

* * *

**Age Fifteen**

Quinn shoved her history book in her locker and was disgusted, yet again, by the fact she had to move her stomach to do so. The worst of the morning sickness that was really all day sickness was over. She'd been thrown out of Finn's into Puck's. She wanted to bang her head on her locker until she bled but decided being a cheating, lying, fornicating beached whale of a former cheerleader was enough without giving herself a rep as a nutcase to boot. She grabbed her lunchbox and took it outside to eat by herself in the quad.

Or that's what she'd thought she'd do. It was cold enough outside that most people were smart enough to sit indoors. It was nearly deserted. She zipped up her coat and thanked God she'd been sensible enough to wear jeans (and stretch jeans, thank you!) instead of a stupid dress. She took a seat on a picnic table rather than at it. Hoisting herself sideways into the picnic bench always reminded her she was sitting for two. She looked at her lunch and felt disgusted. She had to eat food for the baby and she knew it but nothing about food interested her in the slightest.

She sighed and then she heard, "Quinn?"

She sighed again.

Berry.

She forced herself to be polite, the sum total of which was comprised by answering, "Yes?"

Rachel presented herself. Seriously, Quinn thought, Rachel didn't ever just walk up to you. She presented herself. BAM! Rachel Berry!

But still—there she was. She was holding a medium-sized thermal bag. "I hope you'll forgive my presumption but I took it upon myself to bring you some lunch today."

Quinn blinked. "You brought me lunch?"

Rachel nodded slightly timidly and said, "Yes."

The timidity made Quinn's heart do something wrong so she made her voice soft, "Why?"

Rachel shrugged and said, "Why not?" Quinn could see that the girl, in the waves of anxiety coming off of her, was scared of what she might reply. She thought maybe it was the tiny person inside her making her be nice to the tiny person in front of her but she nodded and patted the table.

Rachel's shoulders immediately dropped in relief. She smiled and produced a large thermos from the bag. "I made some miso soup last night. As a vegan, I eat it frequently but I did research and it is perfectly acceptable for pregnancy if you use the purest ingredients, which I have. Have you ever had it?"

Quinn shook her head no as Rachel unloaded two large soup bowls and two spoons. "It's a different flavor than you might be used to. It's made with fermented soybean paste and wakame seaweed. It contains protein and omega-3 fatty acids and I added some little tofu bits and carrots to boost the protein and vitamins and minerals. Oh, and to add more deliciousness!"

Quinn said as Rachel poured their soup, "You had me at fermented soybean paste, Berry."

Rachel beamed, "Really?"

Quinn lifted a sardonic eyebrow but smiled. Rachel scowled but didn't seem scared. "I'm about to make you eat your words, Fabray."

Quinn smiled as she took the steaming soup bowl in both hands. She took a deep breath. It smelled…really weird but good. She tentatively took a taste, not even bothering to use her spoon. She closed her eyes. Her body and baby said yes.

Rachel proceeded to surprise the complete hell out of her by not saying even one damned word as they drank their soup.

Rachel finished her soup exactly when she did and she'd jettisoned the spoon idea as well. Quinn wondered if that had been Quinn peer pressure. It probably had been. She knew Rachel wanted to be one of the guys or girls or whatever but she couldn't ever be. Because she was herself. She didn't need a damned club because she WAS the club. Quinn sort of wished Rachel would just get a clue about that. Or really look at her and know being in 'the' club didn't make you happy. She thought again. Or worthwhile. She personally knew she was neither.

Quinn took about six bitchy things she could have said off the conversational menu and decided to use her manners. "Thank you. That was the best thing I've had since…" she waved her hand vaguely at her body.

"You're welcome!" Rachel said as she beamed yet again. Quinn wondered at that for about the zillionth time in their acquaintance. Rachel could actually beam. Like a lighthouse. Off, on, off, on. A lighthouse protected you from danger.

Danger.

No.

No. No. No.

She took a deep breath and refused herself the relief of being mean. Just this once. Please, Jesus. Just this one time, God. She refused to be mean.

She simply asked, as if it hadn't been excruciatingly hard for her to not hurt the girl in front of her. "What's for desert?"

She could see Rachel had seen her struggle. Of course she had. She looked as if she'd read her thoughts. Hell, Rachel probably_ could_ read her thoughts at this point. She could read Rachel's. A little. Maybe. She looked completely shocked Quinn hadn't lashed out at her.

And that was sad.

But whatever.

Quinn put on her Fabray 'Nothing to see here' face. Shrugged. "The soup was delicious but I suspect you'll want to shove more calories down my gullet and knowing you, it'll be nutritious and depressingly good for me."

She watched Rachel process that and then proceed to smack the 'pretend that didn't happen' ball right back into Quinn's emotional tennis court. Right past her.

"Ha! Good guess! I went to the Smoothie-Zone and got the Berryific smoothie with extra cruelty-free protein powder! It has raspberries and blueberries and bananas. It is fully one third of your daily requirement in calories and nutrients! I froze it so you could eat it like ice cream!"

Quinn refused to feel a little charmed as the girl won her point by handing her a large container and spoon.

"Seriously? It's literally called the Berryific? With a Y?"

Rachel nodded and said quietly, sheepishly, "I made them call it that."

Quinn said, "Of course you did," as she took a bite, "It's very, very Berry, Berry."

Rachel looked breathless. "Does that mean you like it?"

Quinn studied her spoon. "l guess."

Rachel thrust her arms in the air. "I win!"

Quinn was now involved with her really amazingly delicious smoothie and why hadn't she known how fucking hungry she was? "Win what?"

"Make Quinn enjoy lunch!"

"Was it a contest?"

Rachel shrugged. "Maybe. A personal one. Make Quinn know I care sort of thing."

Quinn knew she had to say something. Maybe nice. "Okay. I know. Thank you. You win."

The not-match was over. Both of them knew Rachel had won.

Rachel looked so happy Quinn thought she might actually spontaneously combust. Quinn was exhausted in a 'Yay for once I wasn't a complete asshole with Rachel!' I'm so special' sort of way.

Yay team un-bitch.

She took an enormous risk. "Sing for me."

"What?"

Quinn shrugged. "Or don't. It's not a big deal. Just sing something or whatever."

"Really?"

Quinn looked around her. Nearly no one was in the quad. "Really. You have to be asked twice? You?"

Rachel looked at her and said, very shyly, "Okay."

Quinn just wanted to—she didn't know. Be nice or something stupid like that. Rachel liked to sing and that was nice to ask her to, right?

But the look on Rachel's face was instantaneously weird and she realized she'd put Rachel on the spot. Quinn didn't care what Rachel sang. Rachel cared what Rachel sang.

She watched as Rachel moved her eyes in a very, very focused way, doing what was obviously data retrieval. Quinn knew Rachel must be accessing a vast database of appropriate songs and analytically drilling down to ones she could possibly sing at a picnic table and drilling down further to songs appropriate to sing around her. Rachel blinked and chose one. It was literally completely visible. Quinn was as stunned as she was amused.

Rachel beamed again.

"Because this is a happy lunch, I'll sing something that makes me laugh because I like to sing the guitar and piano parts and bash the percussion. I will look extremely ridiculous doing so and I do know that so don't think, as you sometimes do, I'm tone-deaf to the fact I'm not cool!"

Quinn sighed. So Berry. She nodded and gobbled another spoon of smoothie.

And then Rachel began to laugh as she perfectly whooped the descending and ascending guitar line of Just Like Heaven. The Cure. Rachel took off and jumped around, joyously splashing her imaginary snare and cymbals with her hands and voice as she sang the strings and then the guitar. She made it all effortlessly, astonishingly just like the song.

Easily soaring into space. Beautifully. And perfectly. Of course.

Spinning around and singing.

Quinn immediately wanted to die. Because seriously? Berry had chosen _this_ song? It was delirious how perfect she was making it _a cappella_. She danced and sang down, down down the airy guitar sounds while she jabbed at the air and made sounds for percussion and laughingly moved one hand along with the notes…then up, up up and down and then…she blasted out with about 1/3 of her vocal power…because hello? She was three times too big for the song but she sang. To her. Smiling at her. Quinn didn't know what to feel.

"_Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick  
The one that makes me scream" she said  
"The one that makes me laugh" she said  
And threw her arms around my neck  
"Show me how you do it  
And I promise you_

_I promise that  
I'll run away with you  
I'll run away with you"_

Rachel happily bashed her vocal drums with her arms and voice and sang the guitar part again. It made Quinn laugh because of the girl's simple, perfect joy in her own sound—in herself. Rachel didn't care. She just didn't care if people could see her and might not like her for what she was doing. Who she was. She was so delighted with her crazy drum and guitar sounds and with her voice that it was buoyant—infectious. She was free.

_Spinning on that dizzy edge  
I kissed her face and kissed her head  
And dreamed of all the different ways I had  
To make her glow  
"Why are you so far away?" she said  
"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you  
That I'm in love with you?"  
_

Rachel looked at her as she sang that and bashed her imaginary drums violently. Again and again.

_You  
Soft and only  
You  
Lost and lonely  
You  
Strange as angels  
Dancing in the deepest oceans  
Twisting in the water  
You're just like a dream_

_You're just like a dream_

Free. Rachel was…Quinn felt like dying watching it. Hearing it. Breathlessly happy, stupidly and breathlessly happy.

Rachel laughed as she sang and danced in circles, completely and laughably perfectly, the piano bridge, and bashed around with her vocal snare drum and cymbals. Quinn laughed. And felt so happy. So happy. For about forty seconds.

It was ultimately a sad song and she'd known it.

_Daylight licked me into shape  
I must have been asleep for days  
And moving lips to breathe her name  
I opened up my eyes  
And found myself alone alone  
Alone above a raging sea  
_

Quinn knew the end and sang it with Rachel looking right into her eyes.

_That stole the only girl I loved  
And drowned her deep inside of me  
_

Bash bash percussion!

_You  
Soft and only  
You  
Lost and lonely  
You  
Just like heaven  
_

Again. Heaven with a splash of cold water. It was over. And then Rachel clapped her hands and laughed.

And was now packing their lunch items away.

It felt like forever before Quinn could say. "Thank you, Rachel."

"Rachel? Not Berry." She nodded. "That's nice. You're welcome."

Quinn could see that made the girl nervous. Saw her trying to pretend it didn't.

"Okay! You have my number. Call me. I mean if you want. I knew before I did it this would be a one-time thing but still. Okay?"

Quinn nodded. She knew she wouldn't. She knew Rachel knew she wouldn't.

But Rachel still said, "Call me even if you just need to say something mean. I can take it. If it helps you."

Quinn felt a hard lump in her throat. It was so sad that was all Rachel expected from her. But justifiably so.

"Hurting you doesn't help me. It never has."

Rachel smiled sadly at her. "I know."

Quinn took a deep breath before asking, "Why'd you sing _that_ song?"

Rachel smiled and shrugged. "I've sung it for my dads so many times and it always makes them laugh because I'm sort of crazy looking when I sing it. I just wanted to make you laugh. Even if it was at me."

Quinn looked at her. And then she nodded. "It was nice and I laughed with you, Rachel. Not at you."

"Really?"

"Really. Thank you."

Rachel beamed again. "You're welcome."

As Quinn watched her lighthouse walk away, she wrapped one arm around herself and her child. She didn't understand that song.

Rachel walked away sincerely happy she'd been successful with her one-time lunch with Quinn experiment.

She wanted to fall on the ground because she honestly didn't understand what on Earth had possessed her to sing that stupid—well—great—but 'stupid for Quinn' song.

She only knew her sixth sense was pinging. She only knew she didn't understand something really important about Quinn.

She didn't know her sixth sense was both perfectly astute and a complete idiot.

Quinn decided, because of that song, to avoid Rachel forever. And Rachel accepted that.

They accepted what they both didn't know.

Until after Puck's stupid party.

* * *

**A/N There you go.  
**


	97. Chapter 97

**A/N Disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

**Another micro-chapter**

**3 Times Quinn Was Happy Part Two**

**This story is completely AU so the whole canon Shelby thing/Quinn baby-stealer never happened and the timeline for the understanding of the Shelby-Rachel-Quinn thing is my own. Just so ya know.**

**Oh, and for the two anonymous guests who just keep sending the same reviews:**

**Anon 1 Puck never raped Quinn in canon or in my story. Alcohol-fueled and stupid yet consensual sexual decisions are not the same thing as rape, nor are they only a part of adolescence. Ask about a million people on any given Saturday morning. Your equivalence of a stupid sexual decision with sexual violence is deeply offensive to me. Knock it off. **

**Anon 2 Rachel is NEVER making Quinn feel badly about the past. Only QUINN is making QUINN feel badly about the past.I've not only implied that—I've stated it many, many times in this story. **

**That said, I do love hearing from you.**

* * *

**Age 15**

**Post Beth.**

Quinn had to go back to school the next day. She had to. And her mom was being all nice and faux-supportive or maybe actually supportive. She didn't really know if there was a difference yet. She didn't know how to feel about anything. Sunday morning. Not church. That's where her mother was. She pled out because not only did she not want that public waterboarding, she was still feeling ripped apart. All she had to do was sort of vaguely point at the region where she'd had sutures in her vagina and her mother sort of went pale and nodded and went to church without her. And, yes, that part of her was sort of killing her every single minute but that wasn't what really felt ripped apart.

The doorbell rang. Who could that be? Jehovah's Witness? What to answer. "I'm already completely fettered in chains by my own religion, thank you."

She looked through the peephole. Not Jehovah's Witness. Worse. Rachel freaking Berry.

She opened the door. Sheepish Berry holding a cup and looking mega-frightened.

Her voice was unwavering, though, "Hello, Quinn."

Quinn wanted to scream but instead said, "Berry."

"I just, I suppose, wanted to say I look forward to your return to school tomorrow and I only know how to make I'm sorry or congratulations cookies or something even more lame than that so I thought I'd offer you"…she lifted the cup.

Quinn sighed and wanted to not necessarily kill Rachel but something like it. The girl just kept trying.

But this was the first time she'd had a real-feeling interaction with someone since the birth. Everyone else had been super fake. Rachel couldn't even fake not being scared or not knowing what to say. People kept thinking they knew what to say. Why not just shut the fuck up and/or just give her something incredibly stupid like…

"Is that a Berryific smoothie again?"

Rachel beamed. "Yes."

Quinn waved one arm. "Come in, then."

To Quinn, Rachel looked like she had both been given a Tony and was being led to her doom. Concomitantly. She understood why.

Rachel followed a silent Quinn into the kitchen where the girl grabbed a spoon and took a bite of Berryific.

Rachel half-smiled and nodded. She didn't know what had possessed her to do this. She found the house and the girl and the situation terrifically terrifying.

Quinn did too. But licked her spoon. "What's up?"

Rachel shook her head. "Up?"

Quinn tried but couldn't quite not be a bitch. "Up. Berry. Real people ask people what's up and then they answer."

Quinn despised the nearly scorched look she'd created on Rachel's face before the girl just completely sucked it up, right before her eyes, and said with a trace of smart-ass. "Oh, exactly. I didn't understand that my gesture needed exposition. You're nothing if not intelligent. I brought you a smoothie."

Quinn accepted the smack back. "Right. Why?"

Rachel looked flummoxed at this for about two seconds before saying, "You're my Glee teammate and you've been through…something huge and I just…you…you're you and obviously I'm me and I don't know if you'd ever actually talk to someone…like your friends because you have lots of them and I don't mean to be presumptuous but I don't think you will. I didn't know whether having someone to talk to that wasn't your friend might help. Because a person who doesn't matter doesn't matter, you know? I don't matter to you and maybe that would be okay for you. If you needed to talk."

Quinn stared at Rachel because, despite the usual word vomit, she looked almost like_ she _needed to talk. And then the penny dropped.

"Ah. Got it. You're angry I gave her to Shelby."

Rachel looked, for one second, like she'd been slapped. But she recovered in one more second.

"No. Of course not. I'm sure…" Rachel looked around and Quinn didn't know what or who she was looking for or what the end of that sentence was before changing it to, "I'm not angry."

That told Quinn everything. Rachel was really angry but she was really more sad than mad. And join the fucking club. Quinn took another bite of smoothie.

"Want me to tell you what giving your kid up for adoption's like? That it?"

Rachel saw Quinn knew what she knew and whispered, "Don't make fun of me. I mean of course you can. But don't please. Not about that—not about _that_."

Quinn nodded and got another spoon from the kitchen island drawer. She gave it to Rachel and handed her the cup. "Share it and I won't make fun."

Quinn hated the fact Rachel's hand literally shook as she took the spoon and a scoop.

"You know I'd decided to give Beth up way before she was born, right?"

Rachel ate her spoonful and nodded.

Quinn took the cup, took a spoonful and handed it back. And decided to tell the truth.

"It's nothing you can really explain, Rachel. I mean, in my world, I should have had a husband before I was pregnant and I should have been so excited and all that stuff. But I was just a stupid kid and then I was homeless and I hated the whole preggers thing. I hated myself."

Quinn knew Rachel could cry on command but she wasn't faking the tears that were welling and falling and Quinn knew it. Quinn could have kissed her (and why was that image even there?) for not saying anything or doing anything but scooping out a spoon of Berryrific and handing the cup back to her.

Quinn didn't smile. She only nodded. "Still. I never hated the fact of her existence. I couldn't ever hate her or hurt her for just existing. I don't…you can't just _deny_ a tiny, defenseless person a _life_, can you?"

Quinn's face fell even as the words came out of her mouth. Words she actually sincerely meant and felt. Said to the tiny, defenseless person she'd denied a sort of life for every one of the days she'd known her.

Rachel _absolutely_ understood the irony of the statement hitting Quinn in that moment and Quinn could see it in her eyes but watched as the tiny girl refused to take advantage of or even acknowledge it.

She only took the cup and another spoonful of Berryrific. "I think it was incredibly brave of you, Quinn. I'm not being anything but honest when I say I admire you for your decision."

And there it was. Yet again. Rachel was bigger than she was. Bigger and better.

Quinn knew that and tried to ignore that, took the cup and forced herself to continue. "Carrying a baby, I think, is supposed to be some great big thing and it is I guess but when you don't know where you're going to live next and everyone hates you and you're ashamed of yourself, it wasn't necessarily like heaven for me. Plus you get fat and there are things that happen that are disgusting and you don't have any life anymore except the life inside you."

She looked Rachel in the eye as she ate her bite and passed the cup back to her. "A life inside you. And one day maybe you'll be pregnant and you'll know what that's like. It's such a joke I'm sort of a bullshit Chastity Club Christian. And I knew that but it wasn't what I felt. You can't even know what you feel when you have a life inside you."

Rachel took a spoonful and passed the cup back. Breathless because Quinn had never, ever said anything like this to her and she suspected never maybe to anyone else either.

"You really don't want to know what labor's like. It's like when you see it on TV or movies crossed with Sue Sylvester on meth. It was awful. But then, finally, finally, finally. It's a miracle. I had sex on a fat day and got a miracle. If you didn't already believe in God, have sex just one time and have a living child in front of you that you and your dumbass not even boyfriend and God made. There she was. The only miracle I'd ever seen. And I _made _her. I _created_ her with Puck and God, Rachel. A little tiny person."

Quinn glared at her and paused before taking another bite. "I made a miracle and I had to give her away."

Rachel was weeping without sound.

Quinn ignored it. "I forced myself to give her up but don't think I didn't want to die doing it. And don't think Shelby didn't feel just like I did. Just in case you're wondering. I know she must have. If you're anything like a human and a real woman, the child you made is _yours_. Giving a child to a better home doesn't make you feel like a saint. Doing the right thing makes you feel okay in your brain but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt you and I have a feeling it's going to hurt me forever."

Rachel was still crying soundlessly.

Quinn knew why the tears were there—for her and for Rachel herself and for Shelby.

"Listen up and then you have to leave, okay?"

Rachel scraped her tears from her cheeks and nodded. Quinn said something she thought was crazy to say out loud but completely true.

"The only thing…the_ only_ thing that gave me any peace, any consolation, giving my baby away was looking into Shelby's eyes as I handed Beth to her and knowing I was seeing yours."

Rachel was so shocked by those words she held her breath for a few seconds. To hold the words in. It was the most amazingly precious thing anyone had ever, ever said to her. She stared at her beautiful, unknowable, unreachable enemy.

Her enemy who tried to scowl but semi-smiled instead because she obviously didn't know how to know she'd just been so incredibly kind and healing to her and could see it.

Rachel decided to return the kindness and make nothing of it. She smiled to break the spell and nodded as if she felt the very last thing she actually did. Nonchalant. "Somehow, I sense further yet more severe avoidance protocol in our future."

"You got it."

"Understood and thanks for not being so mean at school anymore. That said, you explained things and helped make me happy today."

Quinn chewed the inside of her cheek. "Okay. Good. I guess. Whatever."

Rachel looked at her. Really looked at her, with her big, teary brown eyes. "You're so impossible, Quinn."

Quinn didn't know how to feel about the almost shy kindness and something else in Rachel's eyes and the something else in the girl's voice so she just said, "I know that. Thanks for the Berryific."

"You're welcome."

Quinn walked her to the door and watched as Rachel skipped down to her car and turned, "You made me happy! Thank you, Quinn!"

Quinn couldn't help it. She shouted, "Hey! Weren't you supposed to be making _me_ happy!?"

Rachel shouted back and beamed. "I did! Aren't you?"

Her lighthouse. Quinn glared and very uncharacteristically flipped the bird at Rachel, which made Rachel laugh as she left. Beaming.

Yes. Quinn was happy. Sort of breathlessly happy.

Because she'd made Rachel skip. She'd made Rachel happy.

Maybe post-pregnancy school would be okay.

* * *

**Age 16 Valentine's Day**

Rachel had thought they'd stop. They hadn't. Three Valentine's cards from the same people. She dutifully shoved Valentine's cards in Brittany, Matt and Noah's lockers with little hearts and star stickers. Finn hadn't produced his yet.

Third period. Locker check. Card! Finn?!

No.

It was simply a package of gold star stickers with a note saying, "Answer this and I'll kill you."

She sighed. Quinn. Quinn who almost studiously avoided her and was only very borderline polite/mean to her when they had to speak.

Quinn remained a mystery but still. She'd thrown down the gauntlet and Rachel had to reply. She wrote, "I'm tiny but defiant!" on the note, put the rest of her heart stickers in it and shoved it right back in Quinn's locker.

Fourth period. Quinn opened her locker and was completely unsurprised. She smiled as she opened her own envelope filled with hearts. Huh. She didn't know why that made her happy when it should have made her want to murder Berry.

But still. Berry had thrown down the gauntlet. When Quinn next saw her in the hall, she hissed, "I hate you."

Berry smiled at her and whispered, "No you don't." Seemingly completely unconcerned.

And twirled her very too short skirt as she walked away.

Quinn wanted to be angry but found herself smiling at the wall instead for a few seconds before Finn loomed into her vision down the hall.

"Hey! Hudson! Get over here."

He loped up to her and she could see he hoped his nice boyish smile would belay whatever hell her tone of voice had told him she was about to unleash.

"Hey, Quinn. What's up?"

"Valentine's Day."

"What?"

"It's Valentine's Day, Finn. Did you even get Rachel a card?"

His face froze for a second before he said, "No. Seriously? It's_ today_? Why didn't she tell me? She totally usually reminds me of everything like that."

Quinn lifted one eyebrow. "Seriously? Maybe she doesn't always want to have to remind you of," she jabbed her finger into his right shoulder with each word in emphasis, "things that matter to girlfriends."

"Oh, wow. I guess I should…"

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Okay. Fine. I'll do the heavy thinking for you. Tell her you thought a card wasn't enough and you're taking her to the Thai place and, no Finn, I don't actually care you don't like Thai. She hates Bread Stix and that's where you always take her so suck it up. They have lots of food she can eat unlike Bread Stix which has next to nothing for her to eat but I'm sure you don't know that. Tell her you wanted the Thai place to be a surprise but you just couldn't wait to tell her. Tell her to please wear a dress. She'll like that because that'll mean you might be going all out, okay? Give me ten minutes and I'll make the reservations for you and text you the time."

He was blinking as he listened. She wanted to strangle him.

"Before you pick her up, shower and shave again. Spray your cologne in the air in front of you and just walk through it. She'll still smell it but it won't choke her. Wear your khakis, a white dress shirt and your blue blazer. I KNOW you have a blue blazer because I helped you buy one. Shine your best dress shoes if they need it and they always do. Then get her some flowers and," she lowered her voice, "a fucking card. And read the inside of it so you know it doesn't say 'Happy Valentine's, Mom' like you gave me once."

Finn looked both abashed at that memory and like he was in full information overload but he nodded. "Okay. Thanks so much! I mean, I'd be in so much trouble if I forgot, wouldn't I?"

Quinn lifted an eyebrow, "With Berry? Like you don't even know. Don't do this again, Finn. It's not like I can date her for you, okay? But I swear to God, if I hear you even try to go past second base with her tonight, and I will because she can't shut up, I will find you and I WILL get Puck and Santana and we'll all punch you until you die. Clear?"

Finn was terrified at the look in Quinn's eyes. He nodded like a bobble-head doll. "Totally. Okay. Thanks?"

"Yeah. Whatever. Get going."

Finn smiled his frightened yet dopy, winning smile and went to class.

Quinn didn't know what had gotten into her or why she cared. Sam had given her a thoughtful, perfect and romantic card and a kiss the minute she'd walked into school. So thoughtful, perfect and romantic it was a little gay in her estimation but she'd deal with that when she had to.

Nobody needed to know she didn't hate Berry. Much.

She felt happy, really happy, as she called the Thai place.

* * *

Rachel never knew Quinn made Finn's perfect Valentine for her. Thai! He smiled and ordered something very low-key Thai with her help. He smelled wonderful but not overpowering and no whiskers and he was so handsome. He'd dressed up for her! And flowers and a card! After the date, they kissed so sweetly but he wasn't pushing her for anything but just kissing. Like kissing her was enough for him. It was magical.

* * *

Quinn had a wonderful date with her insanely perfect boyfriend. Who looked like her brother. He was everything he should have been. Took her to a little Korean restaurant 30 miles away from Lima. He knew she loved different cuisine.

He'd even made a mix CD to play on the way. Of excellent, romantic, fun and not even remotely cheesy songs.

They enjoyed their dinner and Quinn didn't even know what to think. He was the perfect guy. And she kissed him tenderly after their date. So tenderly. He was so gentle with her and didn't push. He just kissed her again and again. She felt so sad because she could feel he was kissing her only because he was supposed to and because he cared for her, not because he actually wanted her. And she didn't want him either and she didn't know why. He finally stopped kissing her and just smiled at her. "Happy Valentine's, Quinn."

Gorgeous, perfect Sam.

She loved him because she knew he was lying and loved him even more for it because she was, too. "Yes. It was."

* * *

Nothing at all about these very random episodes of kindness and fleeting understanding between them made a bluffing Rachel actually feel any safer with Quinn. She knew better than to ever, ever mention them or maybe even remember them. Quinn remained the grenade in her life. Pin in? Pin out? Safe or explosion. Every moment. Quinn could still be just as randomly and inexplicably vicious. Not even remotely as often but Rachel never knew why or how she might set her off. She wasn't sure Quinn knew. Rachel ginned up courage when she thought she knew Quinn wouldn't hurt her but she feared her and didn't trust her and still felt a yearning sadness for her. But Quinn didn't want her sadness. Or anything from her.

And, as a matter of fact, they never mentioned them ever again, even after they'd been married for years. It was exactly as if they'd never happened, which was the Fabray Way. Rachel learned, over the years, to respect the wisdom of it. Occasionally.

Even, and especially, after Puck's stupid party.

* * *

**Age 17/Rachel's Room.**

"Quinn, I have something to show you!" Rachel was just back from having gone to Cleveland for a weekend of specialized vocal coaching lessons.

Rachel looked so deliciously…_surreptitious _that Quinn was delighted. "Show away!"

"I'm 17! I'm old enough! I got a tattoo!"

Quinn shook her head in sheer horror. Cleveland?_ Cleveland_ had made Rachel lose her mind?

Quinn had always been wildly adamant about Rachel not changing anything about her body since they'd started dating. Wildly. Adamant. Rachel was perfect. Rachel was always a little astonished by how perfect her girlfriend demanded she be. Perfect in the sense of knowing exactly how perfect she already was.

Rachel wasn't allowed be unhappy about any part of her body. They were allowed to work on themselves as people but Quinn drew the line at Rachel's body. Quinn would put up with and join her in exercise and vegan healthy living all the live long day but would never put up with any smack Rachel might want to say about her own appearance.

Quinn never, ever wanted Rachel to wonder if she was pretty enough. Quinn knew they hadn't been born in the same place. She'd always been more than enough to look at all her life while Rachel had been overlooked or belittled, thanks to her. That could change because Quinn wanted it to. Consequently, Rachel felt nearly relentlessly and assiduously (Rachel's word for it) adored.

So, at the news of a body alteration, Quinn sort of collapsed into sitting on Rachel's bed and grimaced. She said very quietly, "Oh my God and where and what?"

Rachel lifted her shirt and pointed.

The tattoo was only the tiniest, tiniest little mark slightly hashing the right side of the 'O' of her tiny little belly button. Making it, essentially and visually, a Q.

Quinn saw the visual almost 'joke' immediately.

"I just thought I'd show you how I'll feel forever. And even if you broke up with me tomorrow, you'd know I'll always, always feel that way. You know I hate needles and I almost fainted and it was excruciatingly painful for the three minutes it took but it was worth it! I realize in the future it might be perceived as if I'm perhaps strangely hirsute in one tiny area but it's nothing a little make-up won't cover for future poolside photo shoots or beach scenes!"

Quinn absolutely refused herself the pleasure of laughing at that, touched the tiny tattoo, pulled Rachel to her and placed her head on her stomach. "I will never break up with you and you know it but don't scare me like that again. I was doing the whole mental adjustment for saying 'I still love you with your Barbra Streisand arm sleeve thing.' Don't do that!"

Rachel laughed and then jostled Quinn's head with one hand, "No Barbra. Just you. Only you."

Quinn smiled. Rachel had put a tiny little forever on her skin.

Forever.

Quinn looked up at her, "Really?"

Rachel smiled. "Really."

Quinn felt her girl running her fingers through her hair. Her girl. Forever.

She was so happy.

**A/N: Part Three will be more substantive. I want Quinn happy, too. **


	98. Chapter 98

**A/N Disclaimers from Chapter One apply. **

**Inserting a substitute chapter in my three part series of happy Quinn. It occurred to me we'd never seen Quinn and Beth together when Beth was a bit older and that we should. So this is just a throw-away chapter featuring them and a third party. Remember the sheep herding chapter? I wanted you to know what happens with Beth.**

**You don't have to hug my story but hug some other story you're reading, if you don't feel like hugging mine. Creative writing is supposed to be its own reward and to an extent it is. But nobody gets paid in fanfic except with reviews. Hug a story today, even if it's only a constructive hug. You didn't know they existed, did you? I've had real hugs from real people in real life that felt literally and purely like constructive criticism. It's an interesting sensation. **

* * *

**Age 32**

Senior year. Beth was nearly 18, pre-admitted to Dartmouth. She had been frequently approached to model but she had her sights on Ivy League, then med school afterword, specializing in neurology. She adored Dr. Mac.

Although her eyes were Quinn's and she looked incredibly like Quinn facially, Beth really could have been the offspring of Puck and Girl Sam. Puck's brown hair but bodily a dead ringer for Girl Sam. Six feet tall, a boyish build and rail thin but very healthily so. In an emotional space she kept entirely to herself, Quinn found it charming and only fair God had graced Girl Sam with at least one child of Puck's who looked like her.

Beth had come to New York to visit, which was always a joy, but she was old enough to come by herself this time and had decided, with Rachel's help, to surprise Quinn by booking into a hotel for the weekend and just showing up at their doorstep. She'd played with and had veggie pizza with her siblings the night before. The two of them had strolled through the Village today and were now having a NOT a mother-daughter lunch thing. Quinn constantly reminded herself of this. It was a human-I-gave-birth-to lunch.

They ordered and ate but Quinn could see Beth was nervous about something. She made the decision to not ignore it and ask, "Is something wrong, sweetheart, because you seem a little anxious."

Beth sort of just ducked her head, "Okay. Could I just run something by you because Mom's already told me what she thinks."

Quinn nodded, "Sure."

"You know I've been dating Henry Thompson for a while."

"I do. You've mentioned him a lot and sent me a few pictures. He sounds nice and he's cute."

Beth smiled, "He's really cute. He also IS really nice and smart and seems like he's perfect and he does all the right things but…"

Quinn's entire body was suddenly flooded with dread. Anxious teen girl plus cute boy. Dear God.

"Full stop. It's okay, Beth. I'm sorry but I can't make you worry about how to tell me because I'll love you no matter what and I'll tell Shelby for you if you want and you can come live with us if she kicks you out even though I know she wouldn't. You're pregnant."

Beth gaped at Quinn in complete astonishment even as she flushed scarlet, "What? _Pregnant?_ Oh my God. NO. How'd you even go there?"

Quinn palmed her own scarlet face and felt both horrifically embarrassed and the weight of the world slide off her. She took a few deep breaths. "I'm so, so sorry because it's just thank God...and oh my God but," she pointed at her nose and then at Beth's.

Beth then laughed a really delighted laugh because she could see how terrified Quinn actually had been. But the women had immediately been ready to weigh in on her side and fight for her, which was so typical of her.

Beth grinned, "I gotcha. You'd help me if the apple didn't fall too far from the tree. Thank you but no. Can we return to reality?"

Quinn smiled in sheer relief, "Please."

"Okay. Mom sort of hates Henry for no reason. Or maybe no reason I understand. And I guess…can you tell me something maybe I'm not seeing? Is it just because I'm into him because he's my first serious boyfriend and I'm an only child and mom's just being protective and that sort of stuff?"

Quinn smiled at her glass of cranberry and soda. "It might be the overprotective thing because I already want to murder him."

Beth laughed-spritzed out the sip of Coke she'd just sipped. "Stop it. You don't."

Quinn shrugged, "I sort of do. Your father would also want to kill him for being cute and possessing a penis. But one…" she paused and thought about how to say it, "one of the benefits of our…unusual relationship, Beth, is that we can discuss it and I can be clinically detached about it."

Beth nodded and just stared at Quinn for a few moments. "Clinically. Detached. You just said that. To me. Seriously? Mom, sometimes you can be so full of crap it astonishes me."

Quinn stared back at her daughter.

Mom.

Beth had never called Quinn Mom in her life.

Beth faux-glared at her, but with the deepest affection in her eyes. "_What_? I get so tired of calling you Quinn. You're my _mom_. It's exhausting because—right—we both get the point I don't want to make my other mom feel jealous of you or weird about it but I can see it's such a dig when Rachel calls mom Shelby. I don't want to take digs at you. If it's okay with you, I'd just like to call you mom when my other mom's not around and sort of just acknowledge how I feel. You're my mom, mother."

Quinn felt like she'd been hit in the head with an axe handle. Typical. Her blessings always had to be mixed. She wanted to burst into tears at the sweetest thing that Beth had ever said—she wanted to call her mom because she felt it—immediately leavened with what the girl probably didn't even understand _was_ a jab at Rachel.

Quinn took a deep breath. She worshipped Beth but no one got to jab Rachel even a little bit. She smiled at the girl and said, "I feel so humbled and happy you think I've done anything to earn the right to be called your mom. It means something bigger to me than I could ever put into words. Ever. You can't know. Thank you, sweetheart. That said, I must tell you something else. The fact that Rachel, the most forgiving human on planet Earth, continues to call her birth mother Shelby is for personal reasons both of them understand. It is not a dig at her."

Beth blanched a little at the fierce look on Quinn's face as she continued.

"It is a factual representation of the relationship _Shelby_ has chosen to have with Rachel. I have chosen to have another type of relationship with you and you can't tell me you haven't seen the difference in how I act with you and how Shelby acts with Rachel. Do not spend another ten seconds thinking that Rachel has ever or is ever trying to hurt Shelby. She never has and she never would. Please never even suggest that again in my presence or especially in Rachel's. Please."

Beth bit her lip and sat with her thoughts for a few moments and then suddenly looked like she might cry. "I understand. But Mommy does love Rachel. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do. Of course. And Rachel knows that too, okay?"

Beth nodded and shook her head. "Okay. But I do see it. I know Mom's been trying harder and calling and emailing and meeting with Rach more since the kids were born. She still plays Rachel's songs and watches her performances on DVD all the time. I see her really trying to be nicer when she's with her but it's like she thinks she can only be something like Rachel's fan. She's warm and loving and super-mom with me so I can't understand why she just can't bend a little…or do something…" Beth had clearly run out of ideas and words, "_better_ for Rachel."

Quinn smiled sadly and picked at her salad. "Maybe it just hurts her too much to be close to Rachel. Maybe she's detached because it hurts too badly otherwise. News you can use? You can choose to protect yourself and not feel the pain or choose not to protect yourself and live with it."

Beth nodded stared at her for so long Quinn began to sweat. "I'm sorry I said you were full of crap but you did say you could be detached when you've never been detached with me since the moment I met you. Ever. When I see you doing what I know sometimes hurts you and what my mother can't do for Rachel, it makes me love you even more. So thank you."

Quinn reached out and took Beth's hand. "Shhh, baby, Shhhh. Don't cry or I might actually, literally spontaneously combust."

Beth laughed and wiped her tears.

Quinn smiled. "Please don't worry about Rachel and her mother. Your mother. And I know that's so weird even I still sometimes just want to scream. I know them in very different ways than you can because I'm older and married to one of them and gave my precious child to the other. They do love each other in the ways they can and have decided to, okay? They do."

She play-shook Beth's hand and let it go.

"The following will making a tacky song reference to emotions but I was in a Glee club and that was seriously all we ever, ever did, okay?"

Beth snorted and smiled. She knew Quinn had loved Glee club.

"In relationships with people, you really can't always get what you want or even what you need. Sometimes you only get enough, Beth. Only enough to make it through another day and that, my darling daughter, is truly sometimes the best you'll ever get, forever. Most of the time, you should get away as fast as you can. Or sometimes, like with Shelby and Rachel, they know the score and compromise for what they can get because they've mutually decided to make it enough. Or sometimes you sit through things that feel like forever until they change. I'm thinking Rachel with me for one and me and your damn father for another."

Beth watched Quinn take a sip of her cranberry and soda, a woman who adored her father and had announced it to the world and still scolded him and scowled at him as if that hadn't ever happened.

"You walk away or you accept what you know will never change or you hope for things to get better. But knowing which one to choose is harder than you might imagine and the sad fact is this. Sometimes you can't win because doing the wrong thing or the right thing can both sometimes break your heart. Welcome to the world, baby girl."

Although Quinn was perfectly gentle-eyed and serious, Beth could see she'd somehow begun to look somehow shinier and more intensely perfect. Santana had told Beth, privately, the day after she'd turned fourteen, when Quinn started throwing that 'just a little more perfect' expression, it meant the woman needed to step it down, emotionally. Change the subject.

So Beth said in her best teenage monotone. "But that sucks, Mom."

She immediately saw her mother knew she was letting her off the hook and was grateful. Quinn smiled. "Don't think I don't remember we've gotten off course in our conversation. I_ can_ keep on topic, Beth, because Rachel always plans conversations in bulleted PowerPoint slides in her mind. I've learned to deal with it. So. What about this Henry loser?"

Beth rolled her eyes and then went off on the most teenspeak tear Quinn had _ever _heard from her. "I didn't say he was a loser. And you can't say it yet. So just stop being so_ you_ or no—I don't mean that—I do need you to be _you _but also my mom—mom as in _you_, because Henry's _here_. In this city. I have no idea why. Or I kind of do. I swear before God he didn't tell me he was coming. I told him I was visiting you and so he calls me this morning and he's in some hotel room here in Manhattan. He wants to meet me tonight and I know what he must be thinking and it's sort of freaking me out because yes I sort of think I love him but we've NEVER done anything that would need an ultrasound—but he's here and it's...sort of freaking me out because what's his plan or does he have one, right?"

Beth lowered her head and her voice to a whisper, "Okay. I'll spell it out. I'm a _virgin_. But young woman and young man in love meet in different city without supervision and he's Mr. Super Surprise? I don't know whether mom's just protective or right about him. I HATE asking you because you're my mother but I didn't know who else I'd trust more to ask."

Quinn nodded, her mind completely blown. Beth was calling her mom. They'd now had an angsty conversation about mothers and daughters they'd never broached but finally had and now she was asking her motherly advice about possibly having sex. In the same lunch. She felt a sudden, desperate need for vodka. She took a sip of her cranberry and soda instead. "Okay. What's your plan?"

Beth shook her head. "Plan?"

"Well, obviously, I have to meet Sir Douche-A-Lot to give you an opinion."

"Is calling him Sir Douche-A-Lot supposed to make me think you're unbiased?"

Quinn shrugged, "Not in the slightest. Understand, Beth, when you meet a person dating your _child_, that person has to meet a burden of proof. They are not presumed innocent until proven guilty. They are presumed guilty until proven innocent. Granted, every parent's burden of proof can be different. You wouldn't have believed my sperm-donor's burden of proof but I have a sinking feeling Henry would pass it with flying colors. Let me both tell you something and ask you something."

She took another sip of her drink, which had remained tragically non-alcoholic. "Telling you. Every girl has a douche detector or 'not right for me' detector. Every single girl has one, Beth. From what I've seen, maybe 85% of girls and adult women_ never _listen to their douche detectors. Because he's handsome or he's smart or he's popular or he's rich or says the right crap at the right time and whatever and they want to just be loved for a few minutes or feel special for a few minutes so they just ignore the warnings. But the warnings are there. Promise. Somewhere in the back of all girls' and women's minds, they_ know_ something's just not right and don't pay attention to it. And you know what? Tons of times it's not the boy's fault. It's you who isn't right. It's you who's the douche. I made boys suffer because I didn't even _want_ to listen to my internal 'something's not right here' detector. Otherwise known as you're gay, Quinn. You can't always trust other people's intentions but you can trust yourself, Beth, if you actually take the time to listen to your own feelings. I spent a lot of time in therapy learning to listen to myself. What I actually thought and felt. And to be completely fair, I'm sure that's true for guys, too and just to rep for my lesbian sisters, I'm sure it goes double for them because that dumps two emo females in denial into the equation. There's a reason for that second date U-Haul joke."

"That sort of sounded like Santana."

"Of course it did. Santana and I sometimes sound exactly like each other. Why wouldn't we? We've been in each other's back pockets nearly all our lives. But no one sounds like Rach when she's being really Rachel or like Brittany because you can't imitate perfection."

"To continue, now I'm asking you something. What about him doesn't feel right to you? Because you're a teenager—you could have just said 'Screw everything—he's my man!' once you found out he was here in the city but something is making you listen to Shelby in your head and now talk to me. Because it's not Shelby—something in _you_ is making you talk to me because you don't feel sure of him."

Beth took a deep breath and said, "I guess…he sometimes seems a little oily to me."

Quinn tilted her head, "Oily?"

Beth nodded. "I don't mean bodily, but personally. I don't know how else to say it. As in slick. He's just a little too perfect all the time. He's smart and funny and wonderful and witty but he's exactly that for everybody. I watch him and he changes for every person he meets. He talks to a guy who's fixing his car and he's different and perfect for the guy fixing the car. He talks to everyone exactly how they need to be talked to. It just seems weird and somehow oily to me and I guess I think that's what Mommy thinks, too."

"Have you asked her about it?"

"Of course not. I'm an indifferent and rebellious teen. Didn't you know that?"

She semi-smirked. Quinn thought she couldn't be more astonished by how much this child both was her and wasn't. She didn't seem scared of or angry with the world. She was young and just had questions. And had someone she trusted to ask, who was evidently her.

"So you and I and Henry are having dinner tonight."

"I thought I was supposed to tell you my plan."

"Oh right. But you've actually met me, Beth. Who's in charge? You've heard them all say, "'You bitch.' Let me explain. I am. I will meet your Henry Thompson and I promise I will be on my best behavior but I also promise the fact of how I look and who I am will bring out that boy's inner douche if nothing else could. Because if you haven't noticed, I'm oily in all public situations in exactly the way you're describing. It's a form of avoidance behavior for me. Could be for him, too, or he's either being kindly or deliberately charming. Let me really imitate Santana for you."

She shifted in her seat and assumed Santana's posture of Lima Heights swag, "'Alright Beth. Listen up. As you undoubtedly fucking know because my Cap's smart genes beat the shit out of Puck's dumbass genes, the word charm can be a noun or a verb. I'll ignore the whole adjectival charming thing but we both know it's there. The primary denotation of that verb is to give delight. The secondary denotation of that verb charm is to control or achieve control as if by casting a spell. As in man-i-pu-la-tion. That's really what it means to charm someone and I can gua-ran-fucking-tee you most people who are charming you are not trying to fucking delight you."

Beth snorted a laugh, "That sounded almost eerily like her."

Quinn shrugged, "She's my Lefty. But, seriously, I was trained to charm people and have done it all my life so I'll know. If I think it's something bad, I will not be mean to him but I will not let you leave with him. I'll call you with the details for our restaurant. If you even step in the same space with that boy until I see you tonight, though, I will smell it and it won't be pretty."

Quinn had already paid the bill and paid the server extra to stay away from the table. She looked at the remains of the meal and said, "Oh look, I only had salad and yet this lunch felt so heavy."

Beth laughed and said. "That's because you just said more mom stuff in one hour than you ever have to me since I've known you."

Quinn's face fell immediately because it was true, "I'm sorry."

Beth reached across the table and patted Quinn's hands, grinning. "DON'T be. I just didn't know I only had to call you mom to get out all the impacted mom you've been storing for years."

Quinn lifted one eyebrow, "Are you sort of saying I'm full of shit again? You're a teenager so you could be."

Beth rolled her eyes. "What? NO. God no. It's just—you make sense and you can tell me things but you're right. We aren't quote unquote typical mom and daughter so listening to you doesn't squick me out like it does with Mommy and I don't automatically do the teen 'talk to the hand mom' in my head when things seem a little too close to home. It was fine and I appreciate it. I'd never even think you're full of shit except for saying you're clinical with me or now that you just said you'd think I'd think that. You _are _impossible, though."

"So I've been told."

* * *

They walked outside.

"I'm grateful you're giving me this opportunity."

"Why? And for what?"

Quinn smiled. "To be your mother."

Beth rushed forward and hugged her. She easily picked Quinn up because she was so much taller and just whipped her around in her arms and then placed her on the ground. "You always have been, Mom. I know you'll hate it because it's a lame song reference but you know that Cure song Just Like Heaven?"

Quinn again felt like dying. "Yes."

"I play it when I'm thinking of you," she laughed thinking about that, "in a purely platonic maternal fashion. I promise."

Quinn couldn't believe the two most important girls in her life had chosen the same song for her so she just laughed, "Of course you do or this would have become too twisted for words."

Beth barked out a laugh. "Exactly. But still. Parts of it means you to me. As in _lost and lonely_. That's what I mean. I see that."

This was so completely and unexpectedly out of left field and nothing anyone should just baldly _say _to someone without warning that Quinn felt literally as if she'd been physically assaulted.

She stiffened herself not to be angry because this was her child whose statement was accurate. She nodded and her voice was tight and precise, "Correct, Beth. Thank you so much for blithely pointing out the core and sad emotional truth of my entire existence—on the street—with a song lyric."

At those words and the stricken look on Quinn's face, Beth's hands flew to her mouth in abject horror. "Oh my God. I'm so sorry." Quinn glared, looked around and pointed. Beth took the hint and they both moved out of the traffic on the sidewalk into a narrow alley adjacent to the restaurant.

She reiterated, "I'm so sorry."

Quinn shook her head. It didn't matter. It was only true. "Why? Don't be. I get it. You see it. The very few people who can actually see me at all know I've only been always and exactly that."

Beth nodded, wondering how she could possibly fix this while not quite believing how completely blind this woman could be.

"I know, I know, I know I shouldn't have just blurted that out and I know it might be a little hard for you to hear this but I'm just going to say it's not all that few people, Mom."

She ticked the people off she'd spent time with since she'd re-entered Quinn's life on her fingers and had to restart after the ten fingers were up. She called them what all the children in their family did. "You have me and Rachel and Santana and Brittany and Daddy and Girl Sam and Berry and Little Quinn and Noah. You have Shelby, your mother and your fathers and Dr. Mac, _Tio_ Mike,_ Tia_ Tina, _Tio _Kurt, _Tia _Mercedes, _Tio_ Finn, _Tio _Matt, _Tio_ David, _Tio _Vinnie, _Tio _Boy Sam, _Tia_ Lauren, _Tio_ Deryk, _Tio _Artie, Mr. Schue, Ms. Pills-Schue. You have Ms. Sokoll and Officer Miller and Mrs. Regina and _Tio_ Zac and _Tia_ Valerie and that's only naming the people in your life I really know."

She sang quietly, "'Why are you so far away, why won't you ever know that we're in love with you, that we're in love with you?'"

And then said, even more quietly, her eyes filling with tears, "All of us—all of us know how you feel in our own different ways. _You're_ the one who's far away from people, Mom. Not us. You act like no one knows who you are. But we all do. All of us. Yeah, you're this mysterious far-away person to strangers but you're not such a mystery to us—you're just far away. We're all _right here_ feeling you giving us so much. You're so loving and fierce and sweet and thoughtful and even the friends you pretend you want to murder know you'd kill or die to protect them. It's like you're sending all this amazing love out and can't ever seem to feel how much everyone loves you right back."

She softened her voice again, "And I know maybe you can't help that and maybe it can't change but there you go. I'm sorry if just suddenly saying that made it seem like I didn't know how serious it was _to_ say. I did it all wrong but I was just trying in an incredibly lame-ass way to tell you how much I love you and remind you how much you are loved by so many more people than you think. Because I do and you are. If you can't always_ feel_ it, I just want you to _know_ it. I'm seriously sorry but you don't get to give me an earful of truth and not get one back. As someone I love once told me, I always get mine back but harder."

Quinn was frankly crying without sound because she had to keep it together in public. She laughed and shrugged, "Well, okay. If you're going to put it like _that_."

Beth pulled her in for a hug you'd give someone you were afraid you'd never see again. Quinn hugged her back but she was the one to break the hug first as she lowered her voice, "I take your point, Beth. I do. And I do know it and thank you for reminding me about everyone else. I love you too. I'd like to hug you until you were thirty years old but I'm crying, you're crying and we're still in public and we don't know where cameras are."

Beth shifted as she looked around. That was _so_ true. She'd lived it. With their family, you could just be out having ice cream and be on TMZ in an hour. "Understood. Just in case, want me to tweet about hearing the most amazing story of…a dog…no! A rescue dog saving a kitten's life in a fire? And we were hugging it out in tearful joy?"

Quinn thought about it and smirked. "Yes, actually. But only if you use the words tearful joy and make the rescue a three-legged dog named Tripod."

The girl laughed, "Ooh. Score, Mom. We'll probably go to hell for that part but will do."

Quinn nodded, "See? Now we're both smiling in tearful joy."

Beth snorted, "Right? Take _that_, TMZ fuckers. Excuse my language. Hold please." The girl had whipped out her phone and was doing a long-tweet and Quinn was astonished at how rapidly. Was every next generation going to be faster? It took perhaps a minute.

"Done. Read." The girl handed Quinn her phone.

**BethCorcoran: Great lunch in THE city with my MQ. But both in tears after our server told us about a three-legged rescue dog named Tripod rescuing a kitten from a fire in his apartment building. Tripod smashed a window out with his head and carried the kitten down the fire escape in his teeth! Insane! He only needed a few stitches and the kitten was unharmed. Google it. Tearful joy, people! **

"Perfect. People _will G_oogle it you know."

"I do know that and because I wrote it, it will exist although we just made it up. Much like most of the news we read and wrap our minds around believing daily."

Quinn raised one eyebrow, "Don't get me started on that subject. I could call a car but let's walk a block or two and look for a cab." She kept her head down as they walked as she always did but was completely aware of the fact her very tall and very arrestingly attractive daughter didn't exactly help with keeping people from noticing the person next to her. She asked, "You do know that story wouldn't make me cry, right?"

"Me neither—I mean it'd be sweet but as I wrote it, I imagined you carrying Rachel to safety in your teeth."

Quinn hip checked her lightly, "I _can_ carry that little woman. I could carry _you_ even though you weigh 127 pounds. I'd feel it for days because I'm only weight-tested for 104 but in an emergency I'm sure I could carry you 200 yards or 15 flights of stairs through sheer force of will. Past that, I could drag you for three miles if I had to before needing a ten minute breather. But you'd never be a safe catch from a fly without a really ferocious backstop like Britts."

Beth just blinked. "What in the_ hell _are you talking about and how'd you know how much I weigh?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm a Sue Sylvester cheer Captain, Beth. The Navy Seals of cheerleading. I literally always assess how any much any man, woman or child weighs if I might have to catch, lift, carry or, in the case of most men, drag them. I'm never wrong. That's what comes with getting three national championships under the dictatorship of a slightly benevolent lunatic."

Beth laughed, "Okay. Wow. Catch, lift, carry or drag your friends and family. I can't say you don't have your priorities straight. But hey, get this. I've met Coach Sue a couple of times and—uh oh—she loves you, too."

Quinn play-growled at that information. Beth said, "Shhh, Tripod."

They walked another block in silence before Beth glanced at her mother, "Are we okay, Mom?"

"Entirely. What are you doing with the rest of your day?"

"It's only a few hours. Avoiding Henry, who probably won't register the fact that tweet sounded nothing like me. I don't do exclamation points but his name is Henry so he's earnest."

"I don't do exclamation points, either, until I'm about to kill someone." She thought about that. "Actually not even then."

"Sometimes Rachel talks in exclamation points."

"Not sometimes. Usually. She can even use them with her eyes. I find it disturbingly sexy."

"Using my ear bleach now. I think I might do some shopping and hit the Met. There's only so much MOMA I can take. What's the dress code for the restaurant you're thinking about?"

"Slightly dressy, I guess. He needs a suit coat but not a tie."

"I'll wear a dress. And four inch heels."

"You brought four inch heels for this weekend?"

"Of course not. Hence the shopping."

"Got it. You'll be taller than Finn."

"Henry's exactly my height so I'll be four inches taller. I've found I like being taller than boys. It unnerves them."

"You_ are_ my child."

"I am and I have no idea why _Tio_ Finn's all of you people's idea of some unimaginably tall person. He's not Shaq. He's only three inches taller than I am."

"True. But you didn't live with watching him roaming through school hallways with Rachel nauseatingly attached to his side. His hands are as big as her head and his feet are like…the length of her legs."

Beth glanced at her and barked with laughter. "Look at your face! You're still so jealous! And yes, you just made me use two exclamation points. You dated him too as I remember and wasn't he supposed to be my father for a few weeks?"

As those words came out of her mouth, Beth suddenly stopped walking. "Oh my God. Look how tall I am. I know you told me the real full meal deal about how I got here once I turned sixteen but he's not—I mean—you're _sure_ he can't be my father, right?"

Quinn stopped and stared at her in amused shock, "Finn? No! Completely positive. Even I, in my huge state of gay denial, would not sleep with that gigantor. And yes, I just used an exclamation point."

Beth exhaled loudly as they continued to walk, "That's a relief. I love _Tio _Finn but…just no. Plus you're wrong about his feet. Rachel's legs seem as long as mine and I'm ten inches taller."

Quinn smiled at the concrete sidewalk beneath her. "They do and that's just a mystery for the ages. A very delicious mystery."

"One I'll never be old enough to hear about from my mother about my sister, thank you, and by the way, I know it'll be almost like having poison ivy and wanting to scratch it not telling the other three about this Henry thing but please don't. Can we please just keep it to ourselves?"

"Actually, yes."

"Oh—there we go!"

Beth stepped out into the street in all of her long loveliness and wolf-whistled at a cab, which stopped on a dime for her.

She winked at her mother.

Yep. Her daughter.

* * *

It wasn't all that easy to get away from the family for a dinner with Beth. They all wanted Beth-time, too.

They finally accepted the mother-daughter thing but Santana eyed Quinn and pulled her aside in the hall before she left.

"He looks good on paper."

"Who?"

"Henry Thompson."

"What?"

Santana whispered, "You think I don't know that boy's in town? Remember we have security?"

Quinn was actually stunned, "On her boyfriend?"

Santana jerked her head back, "No bish. On Beth. You know I have it on all of us and you know our security doesn't report any activity back to me except that of our children. I never take a report on Beth's privacy unless there's unusual activity. Unusual is this boy's all up in the city when Beth's here alone, okay? That's a flag. Beth's first born and yes, when she's all up in lurve or whatever, I told sec I wanted to know who and where this fucker was. And yeah, I'll ease off—a little—once she's eighteen. Like I said, he looks good on paper. Crazy good grades, swimming team, debate team plus lots more. Exactly the electives you need to get somewhere. Nothing weird or out the way about him. His mother died of cancer when he was twelve but his father sounds a little like your sperm donor. Big shot business lawyer and pillar of the community in the city council way. He's also a church guy and way richer than your dad. As in funding scholarships at Princeton rich. Henry actually sounds exactly like the boy Russell would have loved for you to marry and that's pinging like you can't know on my radar. I might be wrong but he's too perfect, Q."

Quinn grinned. "You're basically saying you're worried because Beth could be dating a me."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Fuck you. And yes but not really." She smiled and then her face was serious. "Beth called me thirty minutes ago. You know why she said she stayed in a hotel this trip? It wasn't just for the surprise. Said she just wanted a vacation and some alone time. She said she'd told you not to tell us but thought about it and just knew I knew he was here and to please not let Henry know about the security unless it was absolutely necessary."

Quinn was shocked, "She did?"

"Yeah—and I was surprised as fuck too and asked how she knew and she just laughed at me and said in a tone that I might have to deal with her about later, "Because I've met you more than once."

Santana saw the amusement in Quinn's eyes but continued.

"Right. So yeah. Said she went to the Met today. Alone. Now realize, she could have called any of the rest of us and we would have gone with her but she wanted to be alone. She went shopping alone. Does that ring a bell as in she's still a kid and a lot like you?"

Quinn nodded.

"I hope I'm wrong but she could be a you dating a you, which would be a disaster. He could be a Russell and _only _pretending or he could be someone like you who's putting up the perfect when there's something like beautiful you underneath or maybe the fucker's just actually perfect. She won't be able to tell because she's seventeen and he's a seriously handsome guy."

"You're right, actually. That's why I'm going to dinner with them."

"Then go get him."

"I'll try."

Santana snorted. "There is no try. And speaking of try, you guys made up that tweet shit about Tripod, didn't you?"

Quinn lips twitched. "No."

"Bullshit."

"Okay but it was a joint effort."

"Meaning _you_ made up three-legged dog Tripod. Beth would make up the dog and the kitten but not that lost leg and name."

"Maybe a little."

"It made Rachel cry."

Quinn reflex-startled in honest anxiety, "OhmyGod, did it? Is she okay?"

Santana chuckled, "She wept a few girl tears over the sweet story until I pointed out the exclamation points and tearful joy bullshit coming from the two of you. As if. So she huffed around and decided she thought it was in bad taste so you gots some splaining to do but I told her to hold off for the weekend."

Quinn sighed and said from out of nowhere. "She called me mom, San."

Santana shook her head. "What?"

"Beth called me mom. She wants to call me mom."

Santana took a few moments to digest that news and tears filled her eyes. She pulled Quinn into a gentle hug and simply said, because words failed her for what that must mean for her best friend, "Good."

* * *

Henry was not having the reception he thought he'd have from Beth. She'd been very surprised and seemed excited he was in the city but had stayed firm about her plans, which had not been to see him. He did understand it was her family time and he'd sort of just come out of nowhere but he did expect her to want to see him.

She seemed to but not in the way he'd thought he'd see her. By herself.

Dinner with her and her other mother. Famous person. Quinn Fabray. Suit coat but no tie. They were sending a car for him.

He decided it wouldn't hurt to be slightly overdressed, hurried out and bought a suit on his dad's credit card. As long as the suit was a nice one he could wear to functions or interviews, he knew his father wouldn't mind. But he texted him to ask permission anyway.

* * *

Quinn had texted the car's arrival and saw Beth standing and laughing with the doorman outside, wearing a very short and a very little black dress. It was a lot too much for what she'd probably told Henry to wear. As she'd read about herself in print, Beth didn't even look real.

Beth half skipped over to the car, an ability Quinn had to admire in those heels, got in and said, "Hi and look at you."

If Henry was going to be dressy casual, Quinn had chosen to go the same. A little low-key, wearing black tuxedo slacks with heels and a white shell underneath a shimmering dark green and tailored blazer. She had made her choppy hair deliberately ferocious.

"And look at you, Beth. You're perfect, of course, although that dress is a little more than dressy casual and a lot too short."

"Said the woman who married the Queen of Too Short Skirts and Dresses."

"Touché."

* * *

They texted Henry and he was waiting at the restaurant as they arrived. He was wearing a perfectly tailored blue suit and tie complete with boutonniere. From the pictures Beth had sent her, Quinn had thought Henry looked almost eerily like that Warbler Blaine guy. Same dark hair, dark eyes and almost invincibly and cheerily handsome.

He proved to be nearly exactly that in real life. He gave his hand to Beth as she got out of the car and then to Quinn. He looked them over and quickly said, "Wow. You both look so much more than amazing." He quickly kissed Beth on the cheek and then extended a handshake to Quinn, "I'm Henry Thompson, Ms. Fabray, and I'd say more but Beth told me we have to get off the street because of photographers."

She shook his hand and nodded. "We really do."

He opened the door for them.

* * *

It was a French-Asian fusion restaurant called Plaisir. An older man with an impeccable grey beard, the house manager and host, Jean, met them. Quinn had dined there often and air kissed him. "Hello, sweetie. This is my daughter Beth and our friend Henry."

Jean, who was completely and flamboyantly gay, said in a deeply accented French, "Of course she is your daughter. _Mon Dieu_!" He made haste to air kiss her which she happily accepted. He turned to Henry, who quickly shook his hand and said, "Oh my gosh! I hear a bit of Normandy in your accent, sir."

Jean gaped and said, "How do you know this?"

"I very luckily spent five months on student exchange in Rouen and I could speak French with you but I won't because I've heard my accent sounds like I come to the French language from Ohio via New Jersey, which I do. It might destroy your ears."

Jean threw his head back and laughed.

Beth glared daggers at Quinn from Henry to Jean as if to say, 'See what I mean?!'

Quinn nodded.

Jean led them to their table and pulled out a chair for Quinn as Henry pulled one out for Beth. Jean nodded at the young man's manners and said, "Your server will be Sebastian and I've let Chef Thibault know you're here, Quinn, so he will send vegan _amuse-bouche_ I'm sure will charm all of you as you choose your meal."

Quinn smiled up at him. "Thank you, Jean."

"_De rien_."

Henry smiled at her. "Ms. Fabray, I'm very sorry I couldn't be appropriate in our introduction outside. I'm so pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine. Please call me Quinn. I've always noticed etiquette demands that a man should praise a woman's appearance for a social occasion, as you have and we both appreciate it. I think it only fair to say, in response, that you look very handsome tonight, Henry."

Beth didn't have any idea whether her Mom, her Quinn, was about to be insanely mean. She really just did not know and suddenly sort of wanted to die as she watched her boyfriend frankly blush, "Oh my gosh. Thank you, Ms. Fab… Quinn. I don't want to embarrass Beth but I guess I will—I'm a huge fan of yours." He nodded his head for two seconds before saying, "As an actor, I mean. I obviously don't know you personally so I'm sorry. This is so awkward."

Quinn nodded, "No need to be nervous, Henry, and thank you."

He beamed. "You're welcome."

Beth was writhing a little in her seat. She said a tiny bit petulantly, "Henry, I said don't make a big deal about it."

Okay, Quinn thought. That was unfair. "Henry's not making a big deal, Beth. He's just stating the obvious. I'm your mother but I'm also a famous movie star person. It's more ridiculous if he pretends I'm not than if he acknowledges it."

She smiled at Henry and said, "Beth is very protective of me."

Beth both semi-glared and semi-smiled at her completely unreadable mother and realized in a second that was what Quinn had decided to be. Completely unreadable and even to her.

Henry smiled. "As she should be."

Their server appeared. He was a very attractive young Indian man. "I'm Sebastian and I'll be your server tonight." He placed menus in their hands and said, "Might I bring you drinks before your meal?"

Henry motioned at Beth and said, "Unfortunately, my friend and I are too young to have your sommelier's choice for our meal but I would like sparkling water with a twist of lime. Beth?"

"The same."

Henry motioned toward Quinn, who said, "l'll have soda water with just enough cranberry juice in it to make it blush. Extra lime."

Sebastian wanted to die. Right in front of him. Speaking to him. Quinn Fabray.

Henry saw it and took his fan-boy eyes off of her by asking him, "Has anyone ever told you that you look nothing like a Sebastian?"

Beth was slightly horrified but Sebastian laughed out loud and said, "Every single person I meet either thinks that or says it."

"I meant no offense."

Sebastian shrugged, "You gave none. I like it better when people just say it."

"I think I understand. Your name's Sebastian and it's counter-intuitive which is completely cool. Get this, though. My name's Henry. Henry is the most boring name on the planet and can you understand how it would feel if no one ever said you don't look like a Henry? No one ever has. I'm a Henry and is there a more boring name than Henry?"

Sebastian laughed as he looked into Henry's true smile. "Sorry, but not really."

"See that? You're a lucky man."

Sebastian nodded, "For the record, let me be the first to say you don't look like a Henry and I'll think up a name that suits you better while I get your drinks."

Henry beamed up at him, "Thanks, Sebastian!"

Beth was again sending Quinn wild, 'See what I mean?' looks during the interchange.

Sebastian brought their drinks and then their _amuse bouche_.

He said, "As I know you, these _amuse bouche_ are an offering from Chef Thibault. Things to amuse your mouth and prepare you for your meal. He knows you, Ms. Fabray, are vegan and has decided to make these vegan for your daughter and guest."

Other members of the staff brought plates and they were tiny servings of each dish.

"I present a lemon verbena mousse with cocoa crumbs and spring baby onion flowers. The citrus is an incitement for your appetite. A cucumber and a tomato gelee, which is light and exquisite in the mouth. Finally, Ms. Fabray, an emulsion of blood orange on a wild berry gelée, which is Chef Thibault's nod to your beautiful wife."

Quinn blushed and said as Sebastian left, "Okay, let's see what we like best."

They all ate their tiny portions in varying degrees of delight. Quinn loved them all. "What do you think? Which one's best?"

Beth laughed. "Mom, you'd pick the berry thing even if it sucked—which it didn't."

Henry looked scandalized and hissed, "Beth!"

"What?

"Language. She's your mother."

That hadn't actually bothered Quinn at all but she now watched their interchange with sudden, infinite interest.

Beth shrugged, "What language? She's cool, Henry."

He ran one hand through his wavy black hair and nodded but Quinn could see he was flustered with Beth because he thought she wasn't showing enough respect to _her_.

He rocked forward, "I liked the lemon verbena."

Beth smiled at him hesitantly because she could see he was a little unhappy with her and she didn't exactly know why. Quinn could see she couldn't and remembered she was dealing with a teenage girl who was acting very differently with her boyfriend than she did with her.

"Tomato-cucumber, Mom."

"I'll pick berry. Every time."

Beth smiled at Henry. Henry smiled at Quinn.

* * *

After Sebastian returned and described the specials, he smiled, "I've decided on a new name for you, Henry."

Henry laughed, "Okay, hit me with it."

"Eric. You look like an Eric."

Beth laughed, "That's wild! That's mom's daddy's name."

Quinn felt goosebumps as she looked at Henry. The boy actually did look exactly like an Eric. She said, "A very good name, Sebastian. Let's order. I'll have what Chef Thibault always makes for me."

Beth said, "I'll have whatever Chef Thibault thinks a vegetarian would like."

Henry asked, "What would you suggest from the specials? I'm unfortunately an omnivore."

"Do you like duck?"

"Very much. Yes."

"The pepper crusted duck breast with cherry port sauce. But I'm sorry to say it would take at least twenty minutes to bring to the table."

Henry grimaced but Quinn said, "I think that sounds wonderful. We have the time."

Henry nodded at her and said, to Sebastian, "Then please and thank you."

As Sebastian departed, Quinn nodded. Time for and time to get to business. She smiled at him, "So. Why are you here, Henry?"

Beth thought 'Oh God,' as he glanced at her in uncertainty and then answered Quinn, "I'm sorry?"

Quinn kept smiling right back at him. "My daughter is on a little surprise visit to her family. You're on a little surprise visit to her. That sounds like strangely coincidental surprises."

Quinn didn't think it would be possible for someone to blush so deeply. He was scarlet and sweating in twenty seconds. But he kept smiling. "Well. Okay. You're right. I got some really fantastic news and I wanted to share it with Beth in person and she didn't tell me she was taking this trip until after I got my news so that's why I came. To tell her in person."

Beth put one hand on his. "What is it?"

Quinn's attention was riveted to their interaction.

He reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulled out an envelope and gave it to her. Beth opened it and read the letter inside. "Oh, cool. Your Princeton acceptance letter." Her voice was pleasant but not particularly enthusiastic or congratulatory. "That's really great, sweetie, but of course you did. You couldn't not get in because of your dad, right?"

Quinn watched Henry's happy, joyful, hoping face fall as if Beth had shoved a sword into him. For the two seconds it took for him to regroup and smile, "Right. Yes. Of course. I just wanted to share that with you, I guess."

Beth smiled at him and Quinn felt the only urge she'd ever had to spank any of her four children. "Beth, Henry and I need ten minutes of private time._ Now_."

"What?"

"I want to speak to Henry privately for ten minutes."

Beth didn't feel good about that. "And what am I supposed to do for ten minutes?"

"I believe there's a bathroom and there's a patio and Sebastian would kill himself to get another drink for you."

Beth saw a glint in her mother's eye. She stood. "Don't be mean to him."

Quinn glared at her daughter, "No meaner than you've been." Beth didn't know what that meant but she left.

Quinn smiled again at sweating Henry. Heavily sweating. He said, "I'm sorry. I'm very sorry I've made her visit with you uncomfortable. I'm sorry. Very. I should leave."

Quinn shook her head and tapped the table with one finger. "No no, Henry. You should tell me why you came to New York and as you do so, realize this. I can lie because I'm an actor. To the core of my being, I'm an actor. Tell me the truth and I won't hate you or hurt you but I_ will_ know if you lie to me. Did you come to tell Beth this news thinking that would get her into bed with you?"

His hand shook as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "No."

He looked at her and his eyes were welling with tears. "I...she's too good for me, I know…I think." The tears fell. "She's so smart and so pretty and so funny. When she got her letter from Dartmouth I was beside myself with what that meant—what she'd achieved. I don't know what to say. Yes, of course. I want to move our relationship that step forward but I don't care and we don't have to until she wants to. I really just wanted her to be proud of me and to celebrate with her and it could be have been _that_ but I swear to you," he stared resolutely into her eyes, "if she'd only just wanted to get an ice cream cone together to celebrate, I'd have been happy."

He wiped his eyes. "I've worked all my life at school so I could get into the Ivy League and all my father ever said to me was Princeton. I had to be perfect boy and I had to get into Princeton. Do you know how hard that is to hear that all your life? Somebody telling you all your life that you 'have to be this, you have to do this'?"

Quinn nodded, feeling an ache in her throat.

"So, I studied and did my electives and I _am_ smart and I_ do_ have the grades and I _am_ the valedictorian. I _do_ have the SAT scores to be anywhere in the Ivy League."

Quinn looked at the handsome, sad boy in front of her looking down at the table cloth instead of her. She asked, "You have all those things, but what? Tell me."

"I worked all these years to get into Princeton and everyone will always think it was because of my father that I did. Nothing I did really mattered. It was expected of me."

He looked up at her, "My father is rich but I did really work for all of it, Quinn. I wanted Beth to be proud of me but even _she_ said, 'of course you got in.'"

He shrugged. "But it's not that big a deal, right? If you're still worried, at this point I don't want to get together with her this weekend or maybe ever."

Quinn was dismayed by the fact this might be so serious for him but had to ask her other question. "Henry, will you tell me something else?"

He shrugged again, "Of course."

"Why do you talk to strangers the way you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"You go out of your way to befriend them."

He looked at her for a long few moments and grinned. "Oh. Okay. I know it bugs Beth that I do that even though she's never actually told me that."

"Why do you?"

He looked at the table cloth again, didn't raise his head, "My mother died when I was twelve years old. My mother was my mother but she was also my friend. I knew she was dying and she knew it, too. She told me most people were kind and, when I missed her, to talk to them and be their friend if only for a few seconds or minutes because it would make them her friend. She said she'd always have me in her heart in heaven but she'd also always have all the friends I made for her here where she couldn't make them anymore. I know it was a simplistic way to say to a little boy to always be kind but that's why I'm the way I am with strangers."

He looked up at her. "I took her at her word. I want my mother to have every single friend I can give her here she can't give herself there, Quinn. I miss her every minute of every day. Being kind to people I meet every day is my way of sending my mother my love. I will never stop doing it even if it looks stupid sometimes and I know it does. I don't care. I won't stop because I won't ever stop missing her."

Quinn looked at him. His eyes were achingly loving and absolutely sincere. This boy would not willingly hurt her daughter. She nodded. "Of course you shouldn't stop. Have you ever told Beth that?"

"No."

She sighed. "Why would you tell me that and not her?"

"You're a mother. You might understand. It might seem lame for a teenage girl to hear from her teenage boyfriend that he will always be that child missing his mother."

Quinn winced internally, "You don't think Beth would understand missing a mother?"

"How could she? She has two mothers who adore her and she knows it. But sometimes, like with everything I guess, when you have more than most people or people who have nothing…I don't know. Sometimes, I don't think she understands how lucky she really is."

They just looked at each other for one full minute.

And then Quinn nodded. "I'll handle this."

He laughed in relief because he could see the woman liked him and loved Beth. But at the look in her eyes, he asked, "Why doesn't that make me feel better?"

She grinned. "It really shouldn't. I'll handle part of it but you do need to explain why you are how you are to her. She won't think it's lame. Promise. Okay?"

"Okay."

And at that agreement, Beth appeared as if by magic and stared at Henry as if to judge what might have happened. Her mouth dropped open.

"You've been crying? Oh my God. Mom! You said you'd be nice and you made my boyfriend cry?"

Quinn said very quietly, "Lower your voice and take a seat."

Beth gave her a death glare as she took her seat that scared Quinn about as much as Rachel's.

"I did not make Henry cry. I asked him questions. I'm going to ask you a few and you will answer them."

"_Fine_."

Wow. How well Quinn remembered the vast range of teenage petulance that could be encapsulated in the word 'fine.'

"I happen to know that you worked extremely hard to be the valedictorian at your high school."

Beth continued to glare, "Yes."

"All those electives and the track team. It must have taken a lot of work."

"Yes."

"When you received your letter of acceptance into an Ivy League school and the one you most wanted, how'd you feel?"

Beth had no idea where this was going. "It felt fantastic, of course."

"I bet it did. What you didn't know, Beth, is that I, Ms. Big Rich Movie star, _bought _you a place at Dartmouth."

Beth was so stunned it took her a few seconds before she literally paled and she shook her head. "No, you didn't," she whispered. "No."

Quinn lifted one eyebrow. "You're completely right. No. I didn't. I promise you I didn't. You got it all on your own, Beth. I can see from your reaction it felt really, really horrible to know you'd worked so hard for a goal and then to know it was all just your very wealthy parent's decision. A bit like you just made Henry feel by basically implying his father bought him into Princeton. Work it out, Ivy League. Who made Henry cry? Me or you?"

Beth's mouth dropped open again and tears immediately sprang into her eyes, "Henry. Oh my God. I'm so sorry." She looked so beside herself that she wasn't a sophisticated woman in a little black dress anymore. She looked like the growing girl she still was. "I am so sorry. I didn't think—I didn't mean that. Your dad's all rah rah Princeton but of course you got in! Of course you got in! I just sort of always knew you would. You're crazy smart and you're perfect. Of course you got in. I'm so proud of you! So proud of you!"

Henry looked a little delirious and embarrassed because Beth suddenly leaped into his arms and took his face in her hands and peppered it with kisses as he laughed.

Quinn laughed as she said, "Okay, kids. Break it up. We have a meal to eat."

Beth re-seated herself and glared at Quinn, "That was a seriously bitchy thing for you to do to me."

Quinn lifted one eyebrow again, "Your point?"

Beth inhaled. Her mother had corrected her and made things better. Mothers could sometimes do that. "Thanks, mom."

"You're welcome, Beth."

Sebastian appeared holding a tray with three wine glasses. With wine in them. He placed it on the table and lowered his voice to the quietest whisper. "Naturally I would do the usual wine service if you had ordered it but you did not. This murders our sommelier Bernard but he has agreed to say, if anyone should ask, that he was serving you three the first non-alcoholic wine of which he approves. It is not non-alcoholic. Not only will it enhance your meal, you all look-if I might be so bold to say so-as if you need a drink."

Quinn laughed out loud. "Thank you, Sebastian. Okay. Beth." She winked at Henry, "Eric. _A votre santé_!"

They lifted their glasses and touched them together.

* * *

They had a wonderful meal and Quinn explained to Beth and Henry that she and Beth would be retrieving her things from the hotel and staying in her home for the night. She invited Henry to come to lunch the next day so he could meet the rest of Beth's family. He readily and joyfully agreed. Beth looked at him as they parted ways. He'd passed some nearly unimaginable test. Her mother might not like him but Quinn actually did like him. She decided it wasn't disloyal to privately somehow feel Quinn's opinion mattered more and decided not to think about why that might be.

* * *

When Quinn and Beth arrived back at the loft a bit after 10, the kids were asleep but the adults were up watching a movie. They'd texted them so when they heard the key in the lock they all rushed to the door to meet them.

Santana took one look at Beth's dress, pointed both index fingers at her and then at Quinn, "You let our first born out in _that_? Britts, quick step. Get a blanket—let's cover her."

Brittany smiled, completely relaxed, "Hi, Beth. San means you look super crazy hot and she can't say that because we're all related."

Rachel looked up at Beth and then hugged her, which made her about at the level of Beth's ribcage. She sighed, "Ahhh…that's sooo nice. I remember this. It's not unlike hugging a slender and much more feminine version of Finn."

Quinn's eyes were immediately the size of pie plates and her voice was as heavy as lead. "What did you just say, Rachel Berry?"

Rachel released Beth and whirled to glare at her wife. "I gets mines back! I said _Tripod_, Quinn! REALLY? _TRIPOD_?"

Rachel turned and did a magnificent diva storm-out.

Quinn truly had been instantaneously volcanic with jealously but with that little, tiny 5'2" slap-back, she clapped her hands over her mouth and doubled over in laughter. All of them did.

She wiped her happy tears of laughter, smiled at Beth, and whispered, "Isn't she _fantastic_? I'm SO happily married. I'll be right out. Rach will too."

Santana followed Quinn down the hall and stopped her, whispering, "Before you go deal with our crazy? I gotta know. Is that fucker a Russell, a you or Mr. Perfect?"

Quinn smiled, a delighted happy smile Santana so rarely saw from her friend. "He's perfect and he's going to marry her. She's just too young to know it yet. You'll see tomorrow."

* * *

Post-Script.

Henry Thompson, who actually legally changed his name to Eric Henry Thompson, did indeed marry Beth Corcoran when they'd graduated from the universities they both had deserved to attend. Rachel's daddy Eric cried like a baby at the wedding even as he shook his head. Nobody could think up new names in their extended family.


End file.
